


Flood

by BurningTea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2015 Floods Uk, AU, Canon-divergent from season 1, Cas as a creature, Cas as a human, Dean and Sam no longer hunt, F/M, I'm not sure what Cas' sexuality is in this, M/M, Set in England because of reasons, Sigils, They don't really know what Cas is, let me know what it reads as, this might be longer than I thought it was going to be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-05-06 09:18:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5411369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningTea/pseuds/BurningTea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean and Sam end up stuck in a flooded town in the north of England, Dean finds himself attracted to a dark-haired guy working in the only coffee-shop still open. He thinks it will pass the time until the roads open to flirt with this Cas. It might have gone to plan if Dean hadn't run into a creature near the park. </p><p>There's something lurking in the river, the river's about to flood, and Cas and his sister Hannah are hiding something huge.</p><p>As Dean and Sam uncover the secrets being hidden, they find out how very differently their lives could have gone if they'd stayed on the path they were on when John Winchester first went missing, back when Sam was still at Stanford and Dean was trying to get his family back together.  This is what happens instead when others intercept the apocalypse and let Dean and Sam stay out of the end of the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coffee and flood

**Author's Note:**

> This won't be a super long piece. 
> 
> I was in Keswick last weekend when the flooding hit, and it sparked this idea. Should only be a few chapters. 
> 
> [ExpatGirl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ExpatGirl/pseuds/ExpatGirl) got me thinking about water dragons, and then I just had to write a story about one. :)

Rain spat at the ground, bouncing off the pavement and back down into growing puddles. Through the glass, it looked almost peaceful, but the constant noise of the wind set a lie to that. 

“It’s never going to stop,” Dean grumbled, slumping over the breakfast table and scowling out at the day. “We’re stuck here in some town smaller than a Walmart and the rain’s never going to stop.”

Across the table, Sam shook his head as he spread butter on to his toast. Granary. Nice.

“Don’t be like that, Dean,” he said, “Look, this is only, what, the third time we’ve been over to England? It was sunny the other two times. Pretty sure that means we lucked out on the averages.”

“Doesn’t help me now,” Dean said. His sweater looked rumpled, something Dean wouldn’t be happy about no matter how much he insisted he only dressed nice for work because he had to. His face looked nearly as creased. “When are we meant to be in that meeting in Edinburgh?”

“Two days from now,” Sam said calmly, even though he knew Dean had the schedule memorized. Dean always had the schedule memorized. He’d also never admit it. “The owner said this should blow over before then. By the afternoon, she said. We’ll make the meeting.”

“We should be there now,” Dean said. “At least we’d be stuck in a bigger place. With bars. What’s this place got? Tea-shops? What do they even sell?”

Ignoring most of the content of what Dean said, Sam finished with the butter and looked between the jam and the marmalade. Maybe jam first. He could always ask for more toast to try the marmalade after. 

“Look, you agreed we could stop by the Lakes on our way up,” Sam said. “I want to see where Wordsworth was born, and I want to go down to Grasmere and a few other places. If it wasn’t raining-”

“But it is,” Dean cut him off. “Sam, this was a crappy idea when I thought it’d be sunny, but now…?”

“I’ve seen you sit in a motel room for three days straight,” Sam said. “What’s the difference?”

“Motel rooms are bigger,” Dean said. “And they have more channels on the TV. Five. Can you believe that? Even that place we stayed in the first night had more than that.”

“They’ve only got terrestrial TV,” Sam said, shrugging and biting into his toast. It crunched. Perfect. “Stop complaining and eat your toast. We’ll find something to do in town.”

“Hardly a town,” Dean muttered, but he smeared jam all over his toast and ate it, so that was good enough for a win. 

After two more rounds of toast and another pot of tea, which Dean refused to drink on the grounds it was probably squeezed from demons, Sam stopped back at his room, laced up his boots and pulled his longest coat on. Dean watched him from he corner of the room, having slunk in on Sam’s heels and refused to leave. When Dean sulked, he liked an audience around to appreciate his efforts. Sam didn’t mind. If Dean was still into the performance sulking, he wasn’t really that bad. It was when Dean vanished and hid that Sam had to worry. Living and working with his brother all these years had honed his skills in Dean-watching.

“You really going out in that?” Dean asked, when Sam had slipped the hood of the coat up over his head.

“No, Dean. I thought I’d go for a bath.” 

“Might as well. You’d be drier.”

Sam rolled his eyes and turned to the door. He didn’t have to ask if Dean was following. With a huff, Dean brushed past him and vanished into his room, emerging a few minutes later in his own boots and coat. He looked put out.

“I don’t see the point in going out just to get soaked,” Dean said as they made their way down the stairs. They creaked. “If we’re stuck here, we could at least stay dry.”

“I’m going to look around,” Sam said. 

He cast another look around the hallway before he went, admiring the banister and the mouldings. Edwardian. He didn’t see a lot of that in motels back home. 

Dean was still grumbling when Sam pulled open the door to outside, and, yeah, it was just a bit wetter than he’d have liked. A lot wetter. It was like staring sideways into an ocean, all right? But Dean wasn’t going to hear Sam give up on this. He’d accepted that seeing all the places he’d wanted to go was out of the question, with the owner of the B&B assuring him driving in these conditions was more or less asking Death for a visit, but he was still going to get out and see something of the tiny Lakeland market town they were in. It was cultured. Had to be. More than listening to Dean list all the things he could be doing in a city, anyway.

With a determined stride, Sam set out into Keswick. 

One minute later, he had water sliding down the back of his neck, even with the hood of the coat up, and his jeans were already starting to stick to his skin.

“Let’s just go back,” Dean said. He hadn’t got a hood and his hair was slicked back to his head, the strands darker than usual.

“No.”

Sam pushed on, rounding the corner at the end of the street and avoiding most of the puddles. Rain lashed his face, forced at him by a gust of wind strong enough to rock him. 

“Now can we?”

“No.”

Up ahead, a cheerful red sign announced coffee was being served. 

“We’ll stop there. Get something hot to drink,” Sam said, nodding and feeling water slide off his hood. 

“Fucking fantastic,” Dean said. “That’ll make up for everything.”

Sam ignored him. 

It took another couple of minutes to reach the lit interior of the coffee shop. When Sam opened the door a rush of warm air met him, carrying scents of chocolate and spices and rich coffee. Even Dean would have to mellow in here. Eventually.

“What do you want?” Sam asked, already scanning the board to see what was on offer.

Dean didn’t answer. 

Glancing at his brother, Sam saw Dean’s eyes were fixed on something, that his lips were ever so slightly parted. Right. He didn’t even have to trace Dean’s line of sight to know the end point would be some hot barista. He looked anyway, just to be sure.

Dark hair and a jawline to rival anyone’s certainly explained why Dean had been struck silent. He always did have a weakness for that combination. This time they belonged to a man. 

“I don’t think he’s on the menu, Dean,” Sam said, letting some of his smile show in his voice. 

Dean’s smirk told Sam that, with rain blocking the roads out of town and time to kill, his brother had found something to pass the time on. He just hoped the guy behind the counter wouldn’t be freaked out by Dean’s flirting. It wasn’t like Dean would push things, but that first brush with an interested Dean could be too much for some people. 

“I’ll get these, Sammy,” Dean said, and approached the counter without waiting to ask what Sam even wanted. 

Sighing, Sam trailed after him. Hopefully, this wouldn’t be a time Dean got them thrown out of somewhere by being overly friendly. Sam at least wanted a hot drink and maybe a slice of cake. A muffin at the very least. Breakfast had been great, but even a cooked breakfast for hill-walkers couldn’t quite match up to Sam’s giant frame.

“Hey,” Dean said, stopping and leaning against the counter, his smile radiating a warmth sorely lacking in this town right then. “Can I get a couple of coffees?”

“It is what we sell,” the man behind the counter said, his brows drawing together. 

He tilted his head and the light caught his eyes. Sam watched Dean notice. Objectively, Sam had to admit that the guy had a good pair of eyes, blue and well shaped and whatever, but Dean looked about ready to climb the counter. That would definitely get them thrown back out into the rain.

“I’ll have the Blackforest hot chocolate, thanks,” Sam butted in. “And an almond slice. I’m in the mood for something sweet.”

He could have cursed himself as soon as he said it. Dean barely needed an opening at the worst of times, and Sam had just handed him an engraved invitation for some truly sickening flirting. 

“I’ll wait over there,” he added quickly. At least being out of immediate earshot would let him pretend not to hear whatever Dean was about to say. 

He found the table in the corner and slunk onto the chair, pulling his phone out to check on the weather again. No change. Still a red weather warning over the whole North Lakes. If Dean got them into trouble here, they weren’t going to be able to haul ass out of town like they used to do as kids. 

Sam groaned and hoped that this would be one of the rare times Dean actually managed to behave like a decent human being.

*******************************

Dean almost let Sam’s comment go. Almost. The rain in this place was like someone had designed it to be extra damp, the chill crept in under every layer of clothing and whoever had written about England’s green and pleasant land must have had somewhere else in mind. He was owed some fun.

“So,” he said, injecting extra warmth into his smile to counter the grey drizzle outside, “you got anything sweet for me?”

Okay, so it wasn’t his best line, but he’d suffered a plane trip just to be pissed on by the sky. He wasn’t exactly at the top of his game. Besides, Dean normally didn’t need much game. It wasn’t arrogant to know that. It was just a fact. People liked the package, even if they didn’t usually care overmuch for what was inside.

Instead of a smile back, he got another frown, those blue eyes narrowing. Shame. It hid some of the colour, and with the sky the way it was, that was the only blue Dean was going to be seeing.

“There are many sweet options,” the man said at last, as though working his way through a formula he didn’t quite get. A moment later something seemed to occur to him, his head tipping forward as though inviting a confidence. “Do you not see something you like?”

And that was another perfect set-up, but Dean had the disappointing feeling this guy meant nothing by it. He honestly seemed to be confused about why Dean couldn’t see the cakes and muffins and slices. 

“Er, no. I meant… You know what? Never mind.” Dean felt his smile slip and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Just… I’ll take a slice of that.”

Dean pointed at some sort of tart, not really caring what is was. By now, he usually had his object of interest smiling back, giving Dean little glances or long, lingering looks, depending on the setting, and he would be heading towards suggesting they meet up. Long-lasting was something Dean had rarely managed, but quick interest was his specialty. Apart from now, apparently.

“Would you also like a drink?” the man asked. “Some of them are quite sweet.”

“Yeah. I’ll take a latte, thanks.”

“With syrup? That’s sweet.”

Now the guy was stuck on Dean wanting something sweet. Worse, he looked so earnest about it, so concerned that Dean get what he wanted, that Dean found himself nodding and agreeing. And he didn’t even like syrup.

When he carried the drinks over to Sam, he got a look that said he should tone it down. Great. 

“Quit looking at me like that,” Dean hissed. “I didn’t even get anywhere. Here, have your stupid forest chocolate.”

Sam’s face softened into a smile, one of the ones he kept for when he came over all gooey about Dean and his supposed issues. God, his brother could be such a dick.

“Don’t even start,” Dean warned him. “I don’t have abandonment hang-ups or whatever. Or rejection issues, or any of the other crap your Stanford friend keeps spouting on about.”

“Jess isn’t-”

“And I still don’t get why the two of you broke up,” Dean continued, because he’d learned this was one way to divert Sam and this whole stupid little situation was making him feel jangled and weird. “She was hot. Hell, she probably still is. You ever go and visit, you might find out. How many times has she asked you now?”

As expected, Sam’s mouth slammed tight shut. Dean felt bad. A bit. But Sam really had to learn not to butt in to Dean’s love life. Or lack of it. So he struck out with a guy working in a coffee shop in the land of rain. No big deal. 

Sam shook his head and sat back in his seat, sipping at his drink as his gaze wandered away around the shop. Dean did the same, the tension that had sprung up between them simmering on low in the background. It’d either fade out or spring up as a full blown argument later, and Dean couldn’t face worrying which one it would be. 

It was times like this, on the road with Sam, stuck somewhere and not able to work, that thoughts of what they’d turned their backs on hit him hardest. 

Take that woman in the far corner, huddled over a mug with steam rising from it. There was something about the set of her shoulders, the pallor of her skin, that made Dean think vampire. Or the teenage boy at the table by the window, who was tapping at his teeth with a teaspoon. Dean got that creepy feeling that used to warn of a shapeshifter. He hated shifters. 

Of course, they were likely just human. 

It had been years since Dean had actually seen a monster, almost a year since he’d seen a ghost. He’d dealt with that one on his own, knowing how Sam felt about Dean venturing even a little back into the world of hunting. For the most part, Sam had got his wish. Dean just wished he knew why Sam felt avoiding Jessica Moore in person was part of that. They’d been cute together, the few times Dean had seen it. 

Part of him worried that Sam just didn’t dare leave Dean on his own, like Dean would drive off the edge of a bridge if left by himself, even now he had an actual job and a degree and crap that as a teenager he’d never thought he’d see. 

Guilt wriggled its way up through his ribcage, reminding him of everything Sam had given up, even if he’d done it by choice. 

“Look,” Dean said, not even choking on the words, “I’m sorry, all right? It’s being stuck here, with all this rain and fuck all to do. But I shouldn’t have said that.”

Sam took a moment to answer, and when he did it was quiet.

“Yeah, well. You never did like feeling cooped up. We’ll be out of this place soon. I checked on my phone. They’re saying at least one road should be open tomorrow. Think you can stick it until then?”

Dean snorted. 

“Course I can.”

They didn’t speak much after that, the murmur of voices in the coffee shop and the drumming of rain on the windows and roof filling in the gaps. Maybe there was something to be said for the rain. 

A young woman with dark, dripping hair pushed through the door, a tired smile crossing her face as she looked at the guy behind the counter.

“Hi. Sorry it took me so long to get back. Had to help some guy push his car out. Police tape had washed away. He turned right into the flood. Can you believe it? How’ve you been holding up?”

Their barista didn’t seem surprised by the flow of words, simply offering a slight smile back and moving aside as the girl rounded the counter and joined him. He took her coat, holding it out as it dripped water, and took it into the back as the girl kept chatting. He hadn’t answered her once yet, but she didn’t seem concerned. 

“Plenty of cakes left, then. People more in the mood for hot drinks, I take it? Have we got enough milk? If not, we’ll have to shut even earlier, and we’re the only place still open. Oh, great. Plenty left for now. Have you had a break at all? Of course not. What am I saying? You’ve been here on your own. Have a sit down now and I’ll bring you a cup of tea.”

She made shooing motions at the guy until he rolled his eyes and did as she said, taking a seat at the next table over with the air of someone humouring his friend. 

This close, Dean could see faint lines running along the skin from the guy’s eyes. He could see stubble peppering that jawline and part of his throat. He could see how long those eye-lashes were. If the guy had been at all interested, being trapped in town for a day or two could have been fun. 

Dean barely had time to drag his gaze away when a woman appeared in front of the man, drawing his gaze instantly. Shit. At least neither of them seemed to have noticed Dean staring. If anything, the guy’s widened eyes suggested he’d been caught by surprise, as though he’d been lost in his own little world.

“Hannah,” he said, and his voice was even deeper than it had been, a faint rasp over the buzz of the coffee shop. “What are you doing here? It’s not Thursday.”

“No,” she said, affection and concern clear in her words. Family, most likely. “No, it’s not, but I was told about the weather. I came to make sure you’re okay.”

“Of course I am,” he said. “It’s water.”

He sounded baffled. 

She sighed and took the seat across from him, so that Dean was treated to a view of both of their profiles. If she was family, and there was something about the jawline and the blue of her eyes that made it likely, then theirs was a family blessed by good sculpting. 

“Cas,” she said once she was settled, “you know I prefer to see for myself that you’re well.”

“Yes, I know.” He didn’t sound overly happy about it. “I’m fine. You didn’t have to trouble yourself.”

Before Dean could hear any more, Cas’ co-worker bounced up with a mug, her face breaking into a grin when she caught sight of Hannah.

“Hi. Didn’t know you were visiting.” She leaned down, set the mug in front of Cas and hugged Hannah, who hesitated for a moment before returning it. “So, I’ll get you a drink, too, and you can tell Cas off for not telling me you were visiting. Oh, and you’ll be stuck in town. Is there room at Cas’ place for you? Because you know you can stay at mine. I’ll just have to shift a load of clothes off the spare bed, but it’s not problem. Hey, we could have a games night. You like games nights, right, Cas? Of course you do. Tea or coffee? Oh, I know. Hot chocolate. I’ll make you a gingerbread one. They’re great. Be right back. Always good to chat with you.”

The sudden lack of her words as she bounced off even seemed to push the sound of the rain back. After a few seconds, Cas shifted on his seat, his long fingers tapping at the table-top.

“She…” He trailed off and shrugged, not quite looking at Hannah.

“Yes,” Hannah said, as though she got what he meant entirely just from that one word, “but she’s a good friend to you. I suppose…I should stay for a while.”

Cas frowned. It was the expression Dean had seen most so far.

“What about Caro-?”

“She’ll be fine with it,” Hannah said quickly. “I’ll check, but I’m sure she’ll understand.”

Sam’s voice broke Dean’s concentration on the scene at the next table.

“Do you want to go find some waterproof clothes?” he asked, pulling Dean’s attention back to him without apparently realizing he’d interrupted. “I could do with something other than jeans. These are glued to my thighs. It’s ridiculous.”

Despite himself, Dean smirked. He ignored the fact his own jeans were trying to get far more familiar with his flesh than he was used to.

“What’s the matter, Sammay? Scared you’ll never manage to peel them off? Wouldn’t want to deny the world a naked Sam Winchester.”

Sam looked far from impressed.

“You do know how wrong that sounded, right?”

They fell into an argument about how far was too far on the ‘jokes about your brother being naked’ front, and by the time Dean looked round again Cas and Hannah were both gone, leaving the dark haired girl working at the counter by herself. So much for any lingering hope he could win the guy over. Ah, well.

***************************************

The guest lounge at the Bed & Breakfast was nicer than Dean’s living room back home, but it didn’t have his set-up and in any case the TV signal went out mid-afternoon. 

“Come on, Sam,” Dean said, after flicking through every magazine and book in the lounge. “You really happy sitting here all day?”

Sam looked up from the book he was reading, some journal he insisted on getting even though he’d left law behind him a long time back. His eyes were intent and he had his lower lip caught in his teeth. Sure signs he was deep in thought to the point he wasn’t sure which room he was in.

“Huh?” he managed.

Dean waved a hand at him.

“Never mind, Sam. Go back to your article. I’m sure it’ll be useful if you wake up tomorrow as a lawyer. I’m going out for a walk.”

“Sure.”

Sam didn’t even ask why Dean was suddenly all right to go out into the rain when he’d spent the whole time they were out earlier moaning about it. Must be a good article.

It took longer to get ready than it usually did, what with pulling on the waterproofs and bracing himself for the cold wet outside. He ran in to the owner on the way out. She paused in dusting the skirting board and climbed to her feet, her smile warm.

“Going out?”

He managed not to give her a sarcastic answer. Where did she think he was going in this get-up?

“Yeah. Just for a spell.”

This person preened a little under Dean’s smile. That was more how it should have gone this morning with Cas. Well, maybe not quite like this. Mabel was lovely, but not really in Dean’s age bracket and he was pretty sure she was married. 

“Be careful not to get washed away,” she offered. “I’ve heard that the rain’s going on until early morning, now, so here’s hoping it doesn’t have the river spilling its banks.”

“Does that happen often?” Dean asked.

“Last time was 2009,” she said. “Lots of people got flooded out that time. They increased the flood defenses, so we’ll have to see. Maybe don’t wander too close to the river.”

The lilt in her voice said that was a joke, sort of, but of the kind which said she really did think he should stay away from the river. Which naturally meant it was the first place he went. 

English towns really liked to keep everything close together. The river was two streets from where he was staying, running, racing, by the side of the park. A metal footbridge linked the park to the road, and Dean stopped short of it. The river wasn’t far from touching the bottom of that bridge. He’d seen wider rivers, many times. There were people back home who would barely call this a stream. It still looked fast and full enough to be wary of.

With the way the rain was hammering down, creating constant white noise in Dean’s ears, he wouldn’t be at all surprised if that river really did break its banks. He wondered how much of the town would end up under water, then. It was hilly, full of slopes and rises, but that might not mean anything. Dean was no expert on fluid dynamics or whatever, for all he’d taken a degree in mechanics and engineering. 

He sighed, clenching his hands into fists, deep in his pockets, and wondered if the high point of his weekend was really going to be thinking about when a river would flood.

A sharp, high cry dragged his attention round and he caught sight of a flash of red, there and gone. The red had been right near the bridge. On the bank. No-one was there now. 

Fuck. Someone was in the river. 

Dean was halfway there before he even processed he’d made the decision. He was a decent swimmer, but the way that water was moving he’d have to be drunk to think he stood a chance. Even so, the old instincts, the old training, kicked right in. The family business. He saw, heard, a life in danger, and he tried to save it.

Another flash of red broke out of the water, an arm lashing up and gone almost too quickly to see. Dean sped up.

He spared one thought for Sam as he launched himself at the water. He hoped, if he didn’t make it out of this, that Sam would at least have something to bury. 

Icy darkness surrounded him moments later, sucking the air from his lungs, and he fought back to the surface, fought to angle himself to where that flash of red might be now. He had to try, even as any belief he might find the person flooded out of him.

It had been small, that blotch of colour. Small enough to be a kid. 

The water sucked him down, his strength nothing against the torrent. Stupid. Stupid. He’d jumped to his death, that’s all he’d done. He’d jumped, and not saved the kid. If he’d managed that, somehow, this would still be worth it, but now he was going to die and the kid might already be dead and Sam would be alone in this fucking town.

Gasping, Dean made it to air again, his vision blurred and his heartbeat loud in his own ears.

No red. No anything but water, roiling around him. 

A second, at most, and he was back under. 

It was dark. It was so dark…

And then it was light.

Warm light blossomed in front of him, around him, and he felt himself cradled and lifted. There was no chance to fight free, even if he’d had the strength left. Whatever it was, it was immovable, wrapping round Dean and pulling him from the dark with a force greater than the river.

The kid! This thing should be saving the kid. He tried to prise at the…the…tentacle, maybe, but it wouldn’t budge. He couldn’t shout, couldn’t do anything to make himself understood. The kid!

Abruptly, he felt the tentacle spasm, letting go of him for long enough that the current tried to yank him back, but only for the span of a heart-beat. Held securely once again, Dean felt himself lifted and thrown, saw grey and dull green and more grey, felt wet, slippery ground under him, forcing out what air he had left in his lungs. 

With determination forged by years of hunting, he pushed himself onto his side and up on one elbow, scanning for what had saved him. He caught a flash of something huge and shining, translucent and sinuous, before it was swallowed by the river. 

The kid. There was still no sign of the kid.

And then there was.

Further up the bank, a small red shape landed on the mud, a whip-like limb pulling away so quickly that Dean wasn’t even sure he saw it. In any case, he was too busy pulling himself up, making himself get to his hands and knees so he could scrabble over to the all too still figure on the ground. It took too long to reach it, his every breath a rasp of pain in his lungs, his eyes burning and his muscles trembling. Please, please be alive. Be alive. Be alive.

It was a girl. Couldn’t be more than eight. Maybe younger. Still and pale as Death.

Dean had seen Death. He knew.

“Come on,” he whispered, not able to coax his words any louder than that. “Come on.”

Reaching out, he felt for a pulse, for some sign of life. Any sign.

“Harriet!” 

The screamed name came at the same time that a shadow fell over Dean. The name had come from further away. Still feeling for a pulse, he craned his neck to look up. There was no-one there. 

“You can’t have her,” he spat at the nothing, hunching over the child. “Back off, buddy!”

“Harriet!”

A woman landed in the mud next to Dean, her hands reaching out for the girl. The smudge-smears of eye-lashes didn’t move against the girl’s cheeks and Dean still hadn’t found a pulse.

“Give me space,” he ordered.

Time to see if he remembered his CPR.

He didn’t have the attention to spare for the crowd gathering round him, but he felt the hands pulling him away. He fought them.

“No! I don’t have her, yet. Let go!”

“Let me get to my daughter!”

The anger and desperation in the man’s voice was all too easy to relate to, but the guy had his arm around Dean’s neck, almost at his throat, and he was pulling Dean away and leaving the girl unaided in the mud. Other hands joined in, one set pulling with the man behind Dean and another trying to pry the man off. It was a mess. It was a mess and the Reaper was going to get that girl.

Dean would have let someone else die.

In the crowd now surrounding him, he lost sight of the girl. He still had that sense of a shadow falling over them, but he couldn’t get clear to check, and his own breathing was still all wrong. A headache prodded at his temple, only waiting for the space to spring to full life. 

A thin cry froze the people struggling on the bank. A child’s cry. 

The noise of strangled hope from the mother joined it, and the set of arms trying to smother Dean vanished, a stout man with arms like Popeye scrambling away from Dean and shoving through to his daughter. Dean was left being propped up by one guy, who rubbed soothing circles along Dean’s upper arm. He was too tired to put a stop to it. 

A break in the crowd let him see the girl, sitting up and blinking up at her parents as though she couldn’t work out how she’d got there. Alive. She was alive. 

Dean sagged.

“Did you see what happened?” someone asked, possibly of Dean, but he ignored the question. If anyone else had seen it, there’d be an uproar, not this almost calm sussuration of interest.

Instead, he let the guy behind him take his weight and let his own gaze wander. There were more people here than seemed reasonable, given they weren’t in a city. A few people had dogs, collies and spaniels and some sort of terrier. A man in a flat cap waved his hand at a woman in a huge plastic coat, her hair covered by some kind of plastic headscarf patterned with flowers. A woman clung to the arm of a tall man with dark hair…

Cas. Cas and Hannah, standing in the rain and staring at the scene. They looked pale. Then again, everything was washed out and near drowned, even though only Dean and the girl had been in the river. 

Even as Dean thought that, Hannah tugged at Cas’ arm and they both turned away. It must have been Dean’s imagination that Hannah’s eyes caught his as they turned away, hers hard and worried. Just his imagination.


	2. Evening Coffee

“And you jumped in after her?” Sam asked, sitting perfectly still on the same settee Dean had left him on. He still had that journal open on his lap. “Dean, what were you thinking?”

“That it’s still on us to save people if we see them fall in a fucking river, Sam, all right?” 

Dean shivered in a bathrobe their host had found for him, trying to ignore the fact it was several inches too short. A towel draped over his head was oddly comforting.

“Not when it’ll just get you killed,” Sam hissed.

“Yeah, well. I didn’t get killed.”

And he wasn’t telling Sam why, and wasn’t sure why not. Maybe it was the way Sam’s eyes fell into shadow whenever he was made to think about the supernatural, about their childhoods. Better that Sam just thought Dean had been really lucky than he had this little vacation of his dampened by talk of a Dean-saving monster. 

Dean didn’t even have any clue what it could have been. 

“Yeah, well, you could have been. Then where would I have been?”

Dean had no answer to that. He knew what Sam would be picturing, because he was picturing it, too. A phone-call from two states away, and a casket buried in Lawrence by two sons who didn’t even really know how their dad had died. Not really. No-one had been with John when it had happened, and no way would their dad have put a bullet through his own brain. 

“I’m still here, Sammy,” Dean said, quietly, when enough time had passed he just needed to get that casket out of his head. 

“Keep it that way,” Sam said, just as quietly, and went right back to reading his journal. His fingers gripped the pages tightly enough that they creased. 

****************************

It turned out an evening meal was out of the question. Most places were shut, and the pubs were open but only selling drinks. Liquid food it was, then. 

Sam found them a table by the fireplace while Dean got them a beer each, having to shoulder his way through with his pints of ale. Give him a roadhouse any day. At least he knew the rules there. Here, dour men with dogs took over one whole side-room, muttering to each other in a way that warned strangers not to come near. Loud, laughing people in their twenties stood in clusters, not seeming to even notice they were blocking everyone’s way. At least Sam had found them a table tucked slightly away from the worst of it.

“I am too old for this,” Dean said as he settled himself in his seat. “Ten years ago? Yeah, sure. But now?”

“We’re old and respectable, Dean,” Sam said. “It’s a good thing.”

“I’m not old. You’re old,” Dean said. 

“I’m your younger brother,” Sam responded, with all the glee of having caught Dean saying something stupid. “But I’ll bargain down to properly grown-up, if it makes it easier for you to live with yourself.”

They drank quietly for a while, Dean considering whether to have another or switch to a bottled beer for the sake of something familiar, when Sam leaned in and nudged him.

“There’s that guy from the coffee place,” he said. “You could give it another try. You know, celebrate not being dead.”

Right. So they weren’t letting that go yet. 

Dean almost let it go, but he noticed the way the guy was hunched, his head ducked, running one finger along the rim of his glass as though trying to focus on something to help him block out the room. 

“You know what? You’re right. No reason to give up at the first hurdle, right?”

If nothing else, Dean could find out why the man and his friend, or sister, had looked so pale. Almost like they’d seen something. Hunter instincts were hard to ignore, even after a decade away from the job in any meaningful sense.

Cas jumped when Dean touched his elbow, but didn’t try to leave when he looked up and saw who it was. Instead, he tilted his head, frowning. Again.

Dean had to lean in to be heard.

“Hope you don’t mind me coming over to say hi,” he tried. 

“No. Of course not,” Cas said. He blinked at Dean a couple of times. “Are you having an enjoyable stay?”

“Er, well. Let’s see,” Dean said, pretending to think. “So far, I’ve nearly been drowned by the rain and then even more nearly been drowned by the river. So…not really.”

Cas’ eyes widened and he glanced around. If he was hoping for someone to come and rescue him from Dean, he didn’t find it. Not that Dean would keep hounding the guy. Not for long. He just needed to get some sense of what Cas had seen.

“Saw you there,” he tried. “With Hannah. She your sister?”

Cas’ gaze flicked back to him and fixed there. It was intense. 

“Um. Yes. I suppose so.”

Which was an odd thing to say, but not everyone was as smooth in casual conversation with strangers as Dean.

“She over for a visit from the States? Couldn’t help but overhear you a bit earlier. And I noticed when you served me earlier. American, right?”

“This… Yes, I was born in Illinois.”

“Strange place to end up, you don’t mind me saying.”

Dean leaned in slightly more and smiled down at Cas as he said it. The guy wasn’t really much shorter than him, but it was enough to make Dean feel he was towering over him, what with the way Cas was hunched up.

“I suppose we hardly ever end up where we think we will,” Cas said. “Why are you here? You don’t seem the type to come hillwalking.”

“Me?” Dean laughed. “Nah. Not even a bit. We’re just passing through on our way to a business meeting. Antiques. Sam’s ex-girlfriend got us into their family business. It stuck. What can I say?”

Cas just kept looking at him. It made Dean want to tell him the whole story, but he wasn’t here to tell Cas about him. 

“So, you back-packing round the world or something?”

“No,” Cas said. He seemed to take a minute to work out that wasn’t enough of an answer. “I needed a change of scene.”

The words sounded awkward, but Dean let it slide. Some people just were awkward. When they were as hot as this guy, it could even be cute. God, those lips looked kissable. 

And that beer was stronger than he’d realised.

“Huh. Yeah. That can happen,” he managed. He didn’t even stammer. “Are you hot? I’m hot. Any chance I can interest you in a walk?”

To his surprise, the guy nodded and drained his drink. Maybe he was interested after all. In Dean. 

Dean turned and waved at Sam, who nodded and held up his phone. Right. Call if there was trouble. Like Dean couldn’t take Cas. By the looks of it, even without regular hunting for years, Dean was still heavier and stronger. And whatever that creature had been earlier, it had saved Dean, not hurt him.

He’d forgotten it was still raining. How, he didn’t know, since that was all it’d done since before he’d got to this town. He figured his brain had just shut down in denial at how much one tiny place could suck.

Pulling his hood up, he glanced up and down the street. The town square sloped away, the cobbles allowing rivulets to form, and the clock-tower in the middle made the scene look way more old fashioned than Dean was used to. 

“So, which way?” he asked. “Don’t suppose you fancy a walk by the river?”

“No.” That was said quickly. “No, not… The river’s not safe.”

Cas sounded uneasy saying that, as though he didn’t quite believe it but felt he was meant to. 

“We could walk to the woods near the lake.”

Dean stared. 

“Seriously? In this weather? In the dark?”

“Ah. Yes. That…that could pose a problem.” Cas lowered his eyes, that frown turning up again. “I suppose I wasn’t thinking.”

“Yeah. No kidding,” Dean said. “How do you even know it isn’t under water?”

“It isn’t,” Cas said. “But you’re right. It really isn’t a night you should be out in. How about we just find somewhere quieter to be inside?”

Okay. He wanted to get Dean somewhere quiet. Could work.

“Where’d you have in mind?”

They ended up back at the coffee shop, Cas shushing Dean as the old door creaked open and Dean laughed. It was like being a teenager again, sneaking into somewhere after hours. He hadn’t done that just for fun in years. Hell, over the last decade he’d hardly done it at all, for any reason. He was positively tame, these days.

Cas insisted Dean sit down. Dean did as he was told, teasing Cas about being over-protective of his equipment as the guy made them coffee. He’d find more ways to tease Cas if he kept looking so adorably flustered. 

“Dean,” Cas said at last, the first time he’d said Dean’s name since it had been offered up at the promise of coffee. It didn’t seem right that this first naming was carried by irritation. “Mocking me doesn’t make the coffee happen any faster.”

“Hey,” Dean said, holding up his hands. “Not mocking. Promise. Just, you know, trying to keep things light.”

Cas didn’t look like he knew what ‘light’ meant. He had the drinks ready a few minutes later, sliding a large, striped mug over to Dean and taking the seat opposite. The mug had a chip on the rim.

“This doesn’t look like the ones we used earlier,” Dean said, tapping the mug’s handle.

He could have sworn that Cas blushed.

“It’s…not. I keep that one for myself. It’s, er, comforting.”

The guy looked even more ashamed that he found something comforting than he did at having given it to Dean. Jess had sent more than one email to Sam going on about how Dean denied himself comforts due to some hyper-masculine something-or-other, which really just boiled down to blaming his dad for Dean not wanting to advertise the fact he liked something that was no-one else’s business anyway. Jess was unnaturally interested in Dean’s mental state for someone he’d met so few times. 

He sometimes wondered if analyzing Dean was an excuse Sam and Jess had found for themselves, so they could stay in touch without facing up to what they could still be to each other. But then, Dean wasn’t the one with the psychology degree. 

“A bit of comfort’s a good thing,” he said now, wrapping his hands around the mug and smiling at Cas. He’d love to see that face lit up by a real smile. “And hey, you’re not wrong. This is one comforting mug.”

He felt his own smile twitch a bit as he reran his last sentence, but Cas looked reassured, so screw it. 

Silence settled around them, but it was warm and, well, comforting. For once, Dean was happy to just sit and be, as long as he got to sneak glances at the man sitting opposite him, with his dark lashes and full lips and… Anyway. Dean coughed and shifted on his seat.

“Are you bored?” Cas asked. He sounded genuinely concerned. “I know I’m not especially entertaining.”

“Hell, no. Not bored.” Dean drained the last of his coffee and shrugged. “I mean, you got something you want to do, I could be persuaded.” And he let his smile curl in the way he knew got a load of people hot under the collar. “You got something in mind?”

Cas stared at him, no hint he even noticed Dean was flirting. Or trying to. 

“I want to know why you jumped into the river,” he said. 

Dean blinked, thrown. 

“I…er… You saw that?”

He could have sworn no-one was around until after the girl landed back on the bank. Anyone watching would have screamed or yelled or something. If they’d seen the creature that yanked Dean and that girl to safety, they would have. 

Cas nodded. His gaze was intent, considering.

“Yes.”

Dean shifted again, this time settling into something closer to the square-shouldered, intent posture of a hunter. It didn’t matter how many times Sam told him to cut it out, it had been a part of Dean for longer than it had Sam, and it was hard to force out entirely.

“What else did you see?” he asked, his words coming out gruff.

Cas’ brows drew together, his expression more guarded. A few seconds later, he looked away.

“Nothing. It’s not-”

“No,” Dean said, leaning forward and reaching a hand partway across the table. He aborted the move before there was any chance of him catching Cas’ hand. His head was having trouble working out if this was a date or a hunt. Maybe neither. “You saw something. I can tell. Tell me.”

“You wouldn’t believe me,” Cas murmured, still not looking at Dean.

“I might,” Dean said. “Listen, I’ve seen things, man. A whole load of things. Whatever you saw? I’m not going to call you crazy. And it might help to share it with someone, you know?”

A flash of pink caught Dean’s attention as Cas licked his lips. Which should probably be made illegal. No. Focus. Dean had to focus. The guy had seen something and was freaking out about it, even if it was in such a stoic way that Dean hadn’t properly noticed at first. Now was not the time to imagine… Focus.

“Try it,” Dean managed. “It might help.”

Cas still had his face turned partly away and down as he slid his eyes back and up to look at Dean, his uncertainty clear.

“All right,” he said, slowly. He held himself very still. “I think I saw something in the water. Something bright. But… I’m imagining things, right? There was nothing there?”

The guy wasn’t sure he’d seen something. Dean could laugh it off, reassure him that the mind plays tricks. He could rationalize it away so that there wasn’t one more person in the world fearing the dark or the corners of their world. Or, in this case, the river running right near his place of work. Or he could agree that something had been in that river and let Cas know he hadn’t been seeing things, he could trust his own eyes. Either way had its risks. 

“Yeah,” he said, before he’d really thought it through and come to a reasoned decision. “There was something there, all right. It pulled me out.”

Cas had been still before, but now he was motionless. 

“It didn’t hurt me, Cas,” Dean went on, feeling the need to press that point home. “So, yeah, weird shit is out there, but this one? I don’t think you need to be afraid of it. It pulled that kid out of the river, too.”

“It almost didn’t,” Cas said, and then clamped his mouth shut, looking strained.

Dean took a moment, gaze flicking over Cas’ posture and expression, the way he held himself stiff and as though he was trying to be smaller than he was. There was fear there, of a sort.

“But it did,” Dean said. “You’re not telling me it pulled her in, right?”

“No, of course not.” Cas said, sounding almost offended.

“Then you’re worried because it didn’t save the kid first?”

That had crossed Dean’s mind, too, but he figured that for a monster, a creature, to save anyone was odd enough that there was no point getting hung up on it.

“Yes,” Cas said in a whisper. “It… It should have saved the child first, right? That’s what a good person would do? Save the child?”

“Don’t think we can really expect human morals from monsters, Cas,” Dean said.

He almost missed the way Cas flinched. Almost. Poor guy must be struggling to work his way through the whole ‘monsters are real’ thing.

“But look,” Dean said, “at least it did save her, right? And me. Even if it did it in the wrong order. And we’re both alive. Unless… You haven’t heard anything about the girl being…?” He could say it.

Quickly, Cas shook his head.

“No. No, she’s fine. Perfectly healthy. I-” He cut himself off and stood, turning away and then back to pick up Dean’s mug. He stood with both mugs in his hands and didn’t look quite at Dean. “I heard she’s perfectly healthy.”

“Well, that’s good, then,” Dean said.

He waited until Cas had tidied the mugs away before standing and joining the guy. It was a small enough space back behind the counter that Dean had some excuse to stand closer, to get within a foot of Cas. He didn’t push it any further. He still wasn’t at all sure if the guy was uninterested, playing it cool or completely oblivious. 

When Cas turned around, he looked up at Dean with something uneasy in his eyes, and Dean almost backed right off. He wasn’t about to be that guy. If someone was uneasy with Dean being close, then no way would he risk intimidating them into saying yes when they didn’t fully want to. 

But it seemed Cas wasn’t worried about Dean being so close. 

“You don’t think the creature, the monster, is evil, then?” he asked. 

“Not gonna lie,” Dean said, “I’ve seen a lot of monsters, and a lot of them are all kinds of wrong. Not sure I’d call all of them evil, though. Some of them just…they hurt people, and I’m people, so I gotta protect my own, you know? But it’s not exactly evil. Some, yeah. Totally evil. This one? This one didn’t even hurt anyone, so as far as I can say right now, it isn’t evil at all.”

“Good,” Cas said, and now his lips ticked up into a smile. It was small, the barest of things, but it was there. His eyes grew warmer. “Can I ask something else?”

“Yeah. Go for it.” 

Cas stepped closer, until there were only a few inches between them, and licked his lips again, the tip poking out just for a moment.

“Hannah says I should let myself live more. I’ve…been trying, but…” He stopped, his lips pressing together as he searched Dean’s face.

“You been having some trouble with that?” Dean asked. 

The atmosphere felt heavier, more intimate, than it had a few minutes ago, and Dean felt hope spark in his chest. Cas’ tiny nod fanned it. 

“Yes,” Cas said, the word slipping out low and quiet. “I’m told I’m useless at noticing when someone is showing interest. So I have to ask, are you?”

“Am I?” Dean couldn’t help the thrum of excitement under his skin. “Interested in you? Do you want me to be?”

He waited for Cas to decide, waited as those eyes tracked across Dean’s face and then down his body. When Cas met his gaze again, there was a flush on the guy’s skin.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, I would.”

“Good to know,” Dean replied. “And to be clear, I’m interested. Right from the moment I saw you.”

Cas’ lips parted, but whatever he was feeling didn’t find words to inhabit. Instead, he took that last step right into Dean’s space, his face so close that Dean could feel his breath. 

“Can I…?” he asked, seeming unsure how to finish the question.

“Kiss?” Dean asked. He got the feeling Cas hadn’t got much experience, and he had no intention of taking advantage of that. “I’m up for that.”

He waited, though, to let Cas close the last inch. Cas rocked forwards, the press of his lips warm and dry against Dean’s. It was sweet, nothing like the heated encounters he’d had with some partners, but it felt right. Good. 

Bringing his hand up, Dean cupped one of Cas’ cheeks and deepened the kiss, just a bit, smiling against the other man’s lips when he felt Cas’ hand on the back of his head, the other at his hip. It seemed Cas was picking up this part of living all right.

A few minutes later, Cas pulled away, licking his lips again. Dean let him go, his heart beating hard as he waited for the verdict. 

“Come back to my place?” Cas asked.

Dean grinned.


	3. Water

Cas’ body was a warm line against Dean’s, his skin soft under Dean’s hand as he slid it across the guy’s chest and down over his stomach. The muscles under the skin shifted as Cas stretched, and Dean stopped with his hand pressed to Cas’ belly, dropping a kiss to his shoulder.

“Morning,” Dean said. He didn’t try to hide the smile in his voice. “You sleep all right?”

“Yes,” Cas said, and he sounded happier than when Dean had first spoken to him the night before. “Surprisingly well. Perhaps you should stay in my bed.”

And still, even after spending a night with him, Dean was almost sure that hadn’t been meant as innuendo. 

“Could be arranged,” he answered, stroking his hand back up Cas’ body and enjoying the hitched breath he got in return. “Sadly, only until I have to leave for my meeting.”

“That’s a shame,” Cas said. 

He sounded sleepy, still. Content. It wasn’t like they’d got up to much more than kissing and wrapping themselves close together to sleep, but Dean felt like with Cas that was enough to be going on with. One night stands were awesome, as long as everyone involved knew what they were getting in to and was up for it. Cas had kissed him with increasing eagerness the night before, but he hadn’t pushed for anything else, so neither had Dean. If this was all he got, it was still awesome. 

The slow drag of Dean’s hand back down Cas’ chest had Cas tipping his head until Dean got the hint and kissed the side of Cas’ neck. That was one thing they’d already worked out Cas liked. 

“I haven’t got anywhere I need to be today,” Dean said, changing the path of his hand to gentle circles, getting closer and closer to one of Cas’ nipples. “I could be persuaded to stay in your bed for a few hours.”

“That sounds nice,” Cas breathed. 

He arched his back, pushing against Dean. Dean brushed against his nipple and Cas’ indrawn breath and flex of muscles told Dean that was something else to keep in the repertoire. He tried it again, kissing along Cas’ neck and shoulder, and gasped as Cas ground back against him.

And went still.

“Cas? You okay?” Dean asked, when Cas had been quiet for a bit too long. 

“Um. Yes.”

“You sure? You don’t sound sure. Was that too much?”

It wasn’t the first time Dean had been with someone whose interest in sex was low. There’d been a girl back at college. Well, a woman. Dean had been drawn to a fellow mature student, and nothing physical had happened between them for months. She’d liked the kissing and the stroking and had enjoyed feeling Dean inside her, but she’d been more into feeling cherished. Dean was getting a similar vibe from Cas. 

“No.” Cas was tense, though, the lines of his body taut with a different sort of energy from the one Dean had felt a few moments before. “No, I’m okay.”

“Enough for now, though?”

Cas was quiet, and Dean rested his forehead against Cas’ neck, making sure to thread his voice with as much honesty as he could.

“We can go as fast or as slow as you want, man. Hell, we can just stick at what we’ve done. No problem. You hear me?”

At Cas’ nod, minuscule though it was, Dean relaxed enough to move, pulling his hand back and soothing it along Cas’ arm, nice and slow and reassuring. 

“What do you say we get some coffee?” Dean asked.

At that, Cas twisted, something like hope in his eyes. 

“Coffee? You don’t… You don’t want to just leave?”

Of course, maybe Dean was reading Cas all wrong and it was just the guy had been ditched before. That could be making him hesitant. Whatever it was, Dean wasn’t going to push it, not when he was only here for a few days. He pushed aside the thought that Cas might be worth spending more time with. Dean was off to his meeting and then suffering through Sam’s mini-tour of Britain, but after that he was heading home. He wanted to be back home. Still…

“No, I don’t want to just leave,” he said. “What I want, right now, is to get a coffee and find out more about this guy I met.”

“Oh.”

Cas looked crestfallen.

“I mean you, you-”

Dean tugged on Cas’ shoulder until he rolled over and into a kiss. Another thing Cas liked was having a hand stroked through his hair, and Dean made use of that knowledge until the last of the tension left the guy’s frame. 

“Come on,” Dean said, pulling away even though his arousal made leaving the bed unappealing. “You got coffee here, or should we head back to your shop?”

“It’s not my shop,” Cas said. “And I have coffee here.”

He seemed shy as he slipped out of bed, but not about his body. Wearing only a pair of black boxer-briefs, Cas stretched and stood, letting Dean take in the long lines of his body, the finely muscled thighs, the broad shoulders and trim waist. It didn’t help with cooling his blood, but he couldn’t regret the sight. Cas leaving the room was reason enough to have spent the night. 

Dean spent a few minutes thinking of some of the most disgusting hunts he’d been on back with his dad before he made it out of bed and into his clothes. It worked well enough he wasn’t obviously aroused when he joined Cas in the main room of his apartment. No. Flat. They were called flats over here. 

Cas hadn’t found any more clothes on his way to the kitchen area, but he had found his sister. 

Dean stopped dead at the sight of Hannah, her arms crossed as she regarded Cas with her head tilted. Cas stood still, looking at the floor, as though waiting for the results of her inspection. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Cas?” she asked.

Without raising his head, Cas looked up at her. It made him look bashful or submissive or something, and Dean felt his heart melt. Just a little. The guy looked like he needed his confidence building up. 

“It’s fine, Hannah,” he said, a note of pleading to his voice. “I don’t need to move. I swear to you, this won’t affect anything.”

Hannah sighed. 

“I don’t want you to have to move,” she said. “Just… Just be careful. You know you need to be careful.”

“I know you’ve told me I need to be,” Cas replied, and Dean thought he detected a note of bitterness or frustration there. “And I have been. I will be. But you keep telling me to live my life, Hannah, and I don’t see how you expect me to do that when you won’t let me get to know anyone.”

Hannah tilted her head. Her voice was caring, but she didn’t reach out to Cas physically.

“They almost found you last time,” she said. “I just don’t want to see you come so close again.”

Cas slumped, his shoulder dropping and his whole face taking on an expression of such sadness that Dean strode past Hannah and pulled the guy into a hug. He felt Cas lean into him, felt his hands come up and close around Dean’s back. He felt Cas trembling.

“You mind telling me what’s going on?” Dean asked.

“You’re awake,” Hannah said, as though not finding it at all awkward to be standing in her brother’s flat with evidence that he’d spent the night with a strange man. 

Given Cas’ seeming inexperience, that didn’t seem likely. Unless… Dean managed not to fixate too much on the idea she could have heard them. They hadn’t got up to that much, but there had still been enough to count as an earful. Still, not Dean’s fault.

“Yeah, I am,” he said. “And I have ears, so what’s all this about Cas being found? What are we hiding from?”

“We?” Cas said against Dean’s neck. He sounded confused.

“Yeah,” Dean said. Being kept in the dark was making him stubborn. He might have walked out, kept himself out of it, if they’d just told Dean what was going on, but they were making it into a mystery and he’d never been much good at leaving those. Not even when Sam would want him to. “Spill. What’s going on?”

“This doesn’t concern you. You won’t be able to help,” Hannah said.

“Like Hell I won’t,” Dean said. “I know a lot, I’ve seen a lot. Tell her, Cas.”

Cas sighed and pulled away from Dean, who instantly regretted the loss of Cas’ warmth against his front. The guy looked reluctant as he glanced between Dean and Hannah, his tongue darting out to lick his lips before he got out any words. Fuck, the things Dean could think of for that tongue to do. No. Focus. 

“He saw…” Cas paused, swallowed, started again. “He saw the creature in the river, Hannah.”

“The creature pulled him out, Cas,” Hannah said, her mouth moving strangely around ‘creature’. “Of course he saw it. I’m only surprised he hasn’t run screaming from town.”

“It’s not the first monster he’s seen,” Cas said quietly. 

Hannah blinked. It wasn’t much, but on her it seemed enough to count as an over-reaction.

“You’ve seen creatures?” she asked. Her eyes narrowed. “And you aren’t afraid. You think you can help. You’re a hunter.”

“Not anymore.”

He didn’t have time to worry about how she knew. And if she knew, Cas might not have been so surprised by seeing that being of light and tentacles as he’d seemed, either. Sure, Sam hadn’t known about the supernatural for years after Dean did, but only because he was a kid. The chances of Cas not knowing when his sister did seemed remote.

“But you used to be,” Hannah said. “Do you intend to hunt it?”

“The creature?” He waited until she nodded, a tight, quick movement, before going on. “It saved me, and that little girl. I don’t see as it needs hunting.”

“But you want to know what it is?” she pushed. “You’re a hunter. You don’t stop being a hunter. You won’t leave until you work it out.”

She glanced at Cas, who looked away, his jaw tight.

“Cas,” she said, almost pleading. 

“No.”

There was something going on here he really wished he wasn’t starting to get. Running a hand through his hair and down across his face, he stared between them, seeing the worry running right through Hannah, stoic as she was, and the tension in Cas. 

“You know what it is,” he said, unable to leave it at that. Hannah was right. Once a hunter, always a hunter. In the ways that counted. “Last night, you didn’t need reassuring if you’d seen it. You just wanted to know what I remembered. What I was going to do about it.”

But Cas had been anxious, as though afraid for his own safety. That made no sense if he knew the creature already, knew that it was safe.

“Wait. It is safe, right? It didn’t attack me or the kid?”

“No,” Hannah said sharply, when Cas didn’t answer. “The…the creature won’t attack anyone. It shouldn’t have stepped in and saved you, putting itself in danger of being seen, but done is done.”

Something in her voice suggested she didn’t really mean that. There was almost a question.

“No,” Cas said again. “No, I won’t let you take his memories. Not even to keep me safe. I… No.”

Which left the conclusion Dean really didn’t want to reach. He took a step back, seeing how Cas had his arms crossed in front of him, his fingers gripping at his own elbows as though keeping himself from splintering apart.

“You’re the monster,” he said, and noted Cas’ flinch. “Creature. You’re the creature from the river.”

Cas closed his eyes. And nodded.

“What are you?” Dean asked. 

He couldn’t think of anything that looked or acted like that. Some sort of water monster, it must be, but he hadn’t ever come across one which shone the way Cas had, or which saved people with no price being asked. And his sister could take memories. 

Cas barely parted his lips when he answered, the words slipping out only with difficultly.

“In your language,” he said, muttered, “I’m a water dragon.”


	4. Reason to Run

Cas wouldn’t look at Dean. He held himself still, head angled away and his eyes fixed on some point on the floor. His shoulders hunched oddly.

“A dragon?” Dean said. He’d never met a dragon, but he was sure they were more to do with fire.

“A water dragon,” Hannah confirmed. 

“And you?” Dean asked. “You’re a dragon, too?”

“What does it matter?” Hannah asked. 

But she’d been thinking of wiping his memory, and Dean was remembering half-heard comments from Bobby about dragons having all kinds of powers people didn’t know about. She didn’t have to confirm it. She was Cas’ sister.

“Why are the two of you here?” Dean asked. “Not exactly where I thought I’d find dragons.” A new thought trickled into his mind. He swung back to Cas. “Wait. Water dragon? These floods anything to do with you?”

“No,” Cas huffed out, sounding disgusted. “I would never… I can’t stop them.”

He sounded bereft, as though he’d failed in some duty. Maybe he had. Dean had no idea what a water dragon was meant to do. Sam had given Dean speeches about assuming all supernatural creatures were monsters, enough that, what with everything else that had happened, Dean had come around to being willing to see shades of grey, but the idea a creature could feel bad for not stopping people from being inconvenienced or hurt was a new one. 

“Are you meant to?” he asked. 

“Cas always feels he has to fix everything,” Hannah said, and there was exasperation in that. Some pride. “Just now, he needs to work on fixing himself.”

“I’ve told you before, Sister,” Cas said, and the cadence of that word was odd. “I’m not broken.”

At that, Hannah’s eyes grew sad. Dean, still looking between them, saw it even when Cas didn’t. He couldn’t have. He wasn’t looking at her. Still, he sighed.

“You really shouldn’t trouble yourself,” Cas said. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

“I hope you are right, Brother,” she said, sadness singing in her voice. “I truly do.”

“Look, whatever being a dragon is all about,” Dean said, “that doesn’t tell me who’s looking for Cas. And why Cas but not you?”

They both seemed to shut down, and Dean got the strong feeling they’d been hoping he wouldn’t push that part. Well, screw that.

“You saved my life, Cas,” Dean said. “You pulled me out of that water and I’d be dead if you hadn’t. You don’t think I want to help you? Come on, man. It’s what I do.”

“What you did,” Hannah corrected, and, well, she wasn’t wrong. 

That lingering sense of guilt lurking in the back of Dean’s mind flared up. For getting on close to a decade, he’d turned away when he’d seen signs in news stories, when he’d heard people muttering in bars, and had shut his heart to the people he could have saved. Sure, he’d helped some, the ones he just couldn’t shake from his mind, the ones Sam wouldn’t know about, but it wasn’t the same as dedicating himself to saving lives. He’d done it because he’d made a promise to his baby brother, back when the kid was hurting and desperate, and over time he’d come to appreciate not living on adrenaline. Still, he’d let people die just by not trying to save them. 

“Maybe I want to give it another shot,” Dean said, before he’d stopped to think it through. “And I owe Cas a debt, so spill. What’s after you?”

He directed that at Cas, but once again he got no answer. Taking the five steps he needed to close the distance, Dean reached out and wrapped his hand around Cas’ bicep, tugging until the guy moved to face him. He still wouldn’t meet Dean’s eyes, but it was better. He could see the way Cas’ lips were pressed together, the way his eyes were hooded.

“You don’t tell me and I can’t help you.” Dean ducked his head and caught Cas’ eyes, dragging his gaze back up and holding it. “I want to help. Okay? So tell me. Who’s after you?”

“I don’t know,” Cas said, his voice a low rasp.

“What do y-?”

A sound like a sheet billowing, or wings flapping, cut Dean off, and when he looked round it was to find Cas and he were alone in the flat. Hannah was gone. 

***************************

It took a while before Cas unwound enough to make the coffee, but he refused to let Dean do it. Dean got the feeling Cas had some idea in his head about hosts needing to care for their guests, and the guy wouldn’t budge. Maybe he just wanted to feel there was something he could do, because he sure as fuck couldn’t tell Dean what he was running from.

At first, Dean thought it was an attempt to keep it secret, but as the morning wore on, and Cas fumbled answer after answer, Dean came to believe that Cas really didn’t know who was chasing him. Hunting him, from the way he talked.

“And you’ve never stayed in one place more than a year?” he asked, as they curled up at either end of the small, squishy sofa with a mug of coffee each. 

Cas shook his head.

“No. Well. I’ve been here for just over a year. A year and a month. That’s the longest.”

“And you’ve never seen the people who are trying to track you down?”

Cas shook his head again.

“No. Hannah… Hannah keeps a watch on me. She lets me know when to run.”

From what Cas had said, he’d fled from New York, from San Francisco, from a whole load of smaller cities and towns and even isolated homesteads, ending up in London and then working his way up to the Lakes only in the last two years. Some of his escapes had been close, by the sounds of it, with Hannah pushing him out of the door and telling him to literally run. Those times, he’d heard the clash of blades, had seen brilliant light spilling from the home he left behind. 

He’d never broken his word to Hannah. He’d never turned and gone back. 

Most times, running had meant leaving early enough that he couldn’t be found, and it sounded more like a poorly organized road trip than fleeing.

“They got me once. Nearly,” he said. “More than the times I heard fighting, I mean.”

Dean sat and sipped his coffee, giving the guy, the dragon, time to find his words. He was speaking more easily now, as though he’d warmed up to it, but there was still that feeling he could stop at any moment. Dean didn’t want him to stop. 

Cas tapped one long finger against his mug and frowned. 

“I… I woke up and couldn’t move. There was something…on my head.” The frown grew as his words slowed. “Everything felt sluggish and bright, which doesn’t make sense. Normally, when things are bright, they’re faster, more complete. But… And there was pain. And then there was Hannah, and I was in London. I’ve been in this country ever since.”

“Hannah saved you? She brought you here?”

“To Britain, yes. I got on a train to come up to the North.”

Dean felt his face pull into an expression he didn’t really want Cas to see, because, yeah, there was a chance Cas was joking with him, but maybe the guy, whatever, really did just take Dean’s words that literally. 

“Great,” he said. “So, you got no clue what these things are, then? No leads at all?”

“I know they hate me,” Cas said. “I know they think I’m dangerous, that they want me punished.”

“For what?”

Cas shrugged, looking so miserable that Dean wanted to pull him right back into a hug. He held off. Even though looking at Cas now made it really hard to believe he was anything but an attractive, unhappy looking man, Dean did remember the shape he’d seen in the river, the way it had gripped him and lifted him. Quite how all…that fit into Cas’ human-shaped body he didn’t know, but it was just enough to make Dean wary. A little bit.

“Hannah won’t tell me. I’ve asked her, many times, but she refuses. She says I can’t pay penance, that the people upset with me won’t allow it. She says my sins in their eyes are too great.”

A high-pitched buzz cut off anything else he might say, and Cas looked up with wide eyes, searching the room as though he expected these people who were after him to appear out of nowhere. Come to think of it, with how Hannah had vanished, maybe that wasn’t such a stupid idea. 

He held up a hand, shifting his hips so he could pull his phone out of his pocket.

“Relax, Cas,” he said. “It’s just my phone.”

It was Sam. Shit. Dean had sent him a message the night before, but he’d said he’d be back by now, or would check in. 

“Yeah, hi,” he said into the phone, and listened to Sam remind him how it felt not to hear from someone who’d promised they’d call. It took a few minutes to reassure Sam that he was all right, and it was clear his brother was worked up about Dean being out of contact. Dad’s legacy striking again.

“Listen,” Dean said to Cas, holding the phone away from his mouth, “I gotta go see my brother. The tall guy with the floppy hair?” He ignored the tiny sounds of protest from Sam, who’d clearly heard him through the phone. “You want to come?”

Cas shook his head. The energy he’d felt in Cas when they were in bed together was gone, and now he looked like he might never leave his sofa again.

“No,” he said. “No, you go. I…” He managed to look up and meet Dean’s eyes, a faint, barely there smile on his face. “It was good to meet you, Dean.”

And that was how Dean knew Cas had no intention of them seeing each other again.


	5. Vanishing Act

“And he just said goodbye?” Sam asked, peering at Dean. 

From the look on his face, you’d think Sam was the one who’d been rejected. 

“Yeah.” Dean looked away and craned his neck to see the specials board behind the bar. The pub they’d found, tucked away in a courtyard off the main square, looked like it hadn’t been refurbished in years, but it was a comfortable, warm type of wear it had going on. “It happens.”

When Sam kept staring at him, something Dean could fucking feel on the side of his face, he turned back and tried a grin. 

“You ever got any action, Sammy, you’d know that sometimes people just can’t take more than one night of brilliance.”

Sam’s nose wrinkled, but he didn’t look entirely convinced.

“Just go and order me some steak and leave it,” Dean said, giving up on getting Sam to drop it any other way. “And I’ll have a beer. Don’t look at me like that. Do you see all the other people drinking beer already? If the locals don’t care it’s only the middle of the afternoon, why should I?”

Sam grumbled his way to the bar, probably still upset that Dean hadn’t found true love in a tiny Lakeland town with a barista who didn’t get flirting. No way was Dean telling Sam about the water dragon situation. That would mean telling him about being pulled out of the river by Cas in all his tentacled glory, and Sam would drag them out of town before they could eat.

People in the bar were saying one road was open now, and even though he wanted another chance at finding out what was going on with Cas, Dean had resigned himself to leaving after they ate. If he protested, Sam would want to know why. Dean knew he hadn’t exactly been quiet with how little he wanted to be stuck there the day before.

He watched Sam lean against the bar, chatting with the girl behind the till as she laughed and flirted with him. To Dean’s eye, it was mostly professional, the sort of thing bartenders ended up doing to boost trade whether they were into it or not, but as usual he had to admit the woman was finding his brother easy on the eye. If Sam really wasn’t going to get back with Sarah, and given she’d married a guy the year before it wasn’t likely, and he wasn’t going to admit to still caring for Jess, it was about time he found someone new. He was the one who’d insisted they get out of the life before it killed them. 

Now Dean had his mind stuck on finding romance in this town. 

To distract himself, he pulled out his phone and found he could get the Internet just fine. It only took a moment to search for water dragons, and he was scrolling through a site when the click of glass on wood brought his attention up to see Sam sitting back down.

“Got you your beer,” Sam said, pointedly setting his own orange juice down as he spoke. “What are you looking up?”

“Playing a game about cats,” he said, because Sam didn’t care about trivia like that and would only roll his eyes at Dean.

“Right,” Sam said, and proved Dean knew him. “So, I figure once we’re done eating we can get out of here, go right up to the hotel we’ve got booked. I rang ahead and they can give us a room early. And I rang Sarah. She’s heard the storm hasn’t stopped anyone else’ plans that we know of, so the meeting’s still on. You can get in a bit of city life, after all.”

Dean smiled, because Sam’s tone said he expected it, and reached for his beer. He had the nagging feeling he shouldn’t be going anywhere until he’d worked out what was going on with Cas. His search hadn’t told him much, a lot of the information he’d scanned in the few minutes Sam had been at the bar seeming contradictory. 

It bothered him, too, that Cas hadn’t mentioned anything about being able to flit off like Hannah had. How could one dragon do that and not another? His mind played over the way Cas had hunched, the way he’d pulled in on himself when upset, and he tapped his fingers on the table as he pieced together a conclusion he didn’t like.

“Dragons have wings, right?” he asked Sam.

Sam paused with his glass at his lips, and frowned.

“What? Why do you want to know?”

“Just humour me.”

“Fine. Yeah.” Sam put down his glass and pushed his hair back. “A lot of legends say they have wings, but not all. But why?”

“You ever heard of water dragons?”

“Wat…?” Sam sat back, his back stiffening as his expression tightened. “Water dragon? As in, some supernatural entity? Dean, this flooding it because of a storm. You can’t go falling back into-”

“I’m not falling back into anything,” Dean hissed, leaning over the table. “And I’m not saying a water dragon caused this.”

Unless what was after Cas was a group of other dragons, and they caused it to…to… To make him shut his place of work early? Didn’t seem like the best plan. Perhaps they’d planned to trap him in town. 

“Then why do you want to know about them?” Sam asked.

Dean sat back and shrugged, taking another mouthful of beer. He let it sit on his tongue for a moment before swallowing, thinking off all the other things he could be doing with his tongue right now if Cas hadn’t turned out to be a dragon. And if he’d been up for it. Hell, sitting and talking with Cas would have been enough. There was just something about him, something compelling…

“Dean?”

He jumped and looked at Sam. His brother looked worried.

“I just can’t ignore that this stuff is out there all the time,” Dean said. “Not like you can. Sometimes, I just wonder. All right?”

“You think I’m totally okay with just leaving it all behind?” Sam asked. He spoke quietly, and he looked down at his hands where they rested on the table.

“Aren’t you?” Dean asked. “You’re the one who begged me to leave it behind with you, Sam. You said you couldn’t take losing anyone, and I listened to you, and we walked away. And Dad died anyway.”

They sat in silence after that, the absence of rain outside seeming odd after over twenty-four hours of the stuff. The hum of the pub around them wasn’t quite enough to fill the spaces left by Sam’s words. 

Dean’s mind was louder. Images of Sam screaming and yelling at Dean after getting back from that one hunt, the one where Dean had dragged Sam from college to search for dad, of Sam taking the Impala to get Jess to the hospital and refusing to let Dean anywhere near either of them for weeks. Weeks Dean had spent, with Bobby’s help, tracking down and ending that demon Brady. 

Jess had transfered after that. 

“He made his choice,” Sam said. “He could have made a different one.”

“You saying Dad should have left, too? Come on, Sam. You know that wasn’t going to happen.”

“Yeah. I know.” Sam finally met Dean’s eyes, and the old hurt was still there, but Dean saw Sam push it aside. “So, why dragons all of a sudden?”

Dean shrugged. He shouldn’t have asked. He’d let his mind wander and it had just ended up dragging open old wounds, like he’d known it would.

“No reason. Just all the rain, I suppose, and the river. Got water on my mind. So, what did you order?”

Sam gave him a wary look, but let himself be move away to safer topics, and Dean kept to himself the image of Cas hunched over, like he had something heavy at his back. Heavy and damaged.

It didn’t matter, anyway. Give it an hour or two, and Dean would be out of there. Whatever problems Cas had, he’d be having to deal with them without Dean. 

********************

Sam couldn’t help glancing up at Dean as he ate. That feeling he’d kept under his breastbone the entire first year after Dean quit hunting had seeped back again, pressing ugly and slate-grey into his lungs, his heart. He tried to shake himself out of it, felt a flash of irritation that he still didn’t have it under control, but whenever Dean talked about hunting, however subtle he thought he was being, Sam flashed back to hearing about Dad’s death. He flashed back to Jess and how close he’d come to losing her, before he lost her anyway. He flashed back to every time a monster had taken someone or something from him.

He’d wanted out of the life. He just wished the life would leave him be. 

Dean’s cheek puffed out with a mouthful of steak, and he seemed more interested in choosing his next bite than in anything else, but Sam knew his brother. Dean was smart, but he wasn’t always as sneaky as thought. There was something here that had pinged Dean’s radar. 

The sooner they got out of this place, the better. There must be local hunters to deal with anything that really came up. They had to be at a meeting to secure a deal Sarah had been working on for months, and Sam hadn’t spent years learning the art game to fail at it now. 

He pushed aside the gossip he’d heard from the landlady that morning, about a local girl who swore she’d seen something odd in the river. Something that big would have been seen by more people, and Dean would have said if he’d seen it. 

Sam suffered through Dean complaining that the beer here wasn’t anything like as good as the stuff back home, even as he had two more pints of it, and persuaded Dean that they’d get some pie on the road instead of eating it in the pub. Dean was surprisingly easy to convince. It only took until they were out and heading towards the coffee-shops that Sam worked out why.

“You think he’s going to want you turning up at the place he works?” Sam asked.

Dean shrugged.

“Don’t see why it’s a problem. They sell pie. I want pie. If he doesn’t want to sell me pie, he shouldn’t work in a shop that sells it.”

Sam couldn’t think of a logical argument to that before Dean was already inside the shop. With a sign, Sam followed.

Inside, the woman from yesterday stood behind the counter, smiling and laughing with customers. Her hair was bouncy and curling now, and Sam felt a smile tug at his own mouth at the way her eyes sparkled as she talked. 

“What are you wanting?” he asked Dean.

“What?”

Dean had stopped, frowning, in the middle of the shop. He scanned the room slowly and it didn’t take a genius to work out what he was looking for. This one had really got to him.

“Look, Dean, I’m sorry you didn’t get his number or a promise to meet up at midnight on the next full moon, but if you really want to speak to this guy again, you know where he lives.”

Which would put them back on their schedule for leaving town, but if it meant not having a whining Dean the whole way up the motorway, he’d take it. A latte and maybe a bit of conversation with whoever happened to be around would keep Sam busy if Dean really wanted to go and bug his one night stand. 

“Yeah. No.” Dean dragged his gaze away from a corner, and if he really thought this Cas could be hiding in that then the guy was some kind of magician. “Just get your stupid drink and lets go.”

“We aren’t…” 

Sam trailed off. Dean wasn’t in a mood to listen to himself, let alone Sam, so there was no point in protesting.

“Yeah, fine,” he said. “You want anything?”

Dean completely failed to insist on having pie, and Sam nearly ordered him to go and find Cas right then and there, but Dean was a grown man. If he couldn’t admit to wanting to see someone at his age, then there was no help for him and he wouldn’t get any better by being coddled.

At the counter, Sam smiled at the barista and ordered Dean a slice of pie anyway. Annoying though his brother was, he was still his brother. 

“Hey. Oh, I remember seeing you in here yesterday,” she said. “Did you get caught out in the rain?”

“Wasn’t too bad,” Sam said. “We had somewhere dry to stay. How did you cope?”

“Oh, not the worst. Not at all. A friend of mine, she heard about someone who only just took an offer on their house, and it’s been flooded out. Can you imagine? I was worried, but our place is right up the other end and we’ve been lucky so far. Can’t complain, you know?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, finding himself sucked into the flow of words. “Yeah, I know.”

And he did. It wasn’t water he’d nearly seen wash away his life, but he felt lucky to have escaped, just the same.

He heard the door opening behind him, but he only paid it any attention because the barista looked over and grinned, her beautifully shaped lips tipping into an even wider smile.

“Hey, Cas,” she said. “I was beginning to wonder if you were coming in today. Late night?”

Sam felt Dean stiffen, even from feet away. It was some sixth sense reserved for brothers, he was sure. Turning, he caught sight of Dean half looking at Cas, his expression stuck between delight and hurt. It ended up looking shut-down, and Sam saw Cas glance at Dean and away, his eyes lowering and his shoulders slumping.

“My apologies, Evie,” Cas said, avoiding Dean as he made his way to the counter. He looked more hunched than he had the day before. Not that Sam had been paying as much attention to the guy as Dean had. “Something came up.”

“Like what?” Dean asked. 

Sam blinked. That had been…abrupt. Demanding. Cas looked almost as taken aback, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times before he spoke.

“Just…something,” he said. “It’s not-”

“Okay, we need to talk,” Dean announced, and right in front of Sam’s eyes he marched over and took hold of Cas’ arm, walking off with the guy in tow and no sign he was giving an option. 

“Dean?” Sam called out, but his brother vanished out of the shop, Cas being dragged along behind him, before Sam could get even such a short name all the way out.

“Um,” Evie said from behind Sam. “What the fuck was that about? Did he really just kidnap Cas? I don’t think that’s covered in any of our policies. Are you going after them or am I?”

“I think we both should,” Sam said. 

He waited until Evie rounded the counter, throwing her apron down on an empty table and calling over her shoulder at the other girl pouring drinks to mind the shop, and he followed Dean out into the street. This had to be the strongest reaction he’d ever seen from Dean to someone he’d picked up in a bar. Pub. Whatever. 

That clutching sense of unease inside his torso increased.

*************************

“Dean,” Cas said. He wasn’t struggling, but he was pulling back slightly as he walked. “Dean, let go. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” Dean snorted. “Pretty sure I can take a nerdy little guy like you, Cas.”

He stopped once he’d turned a corner onto the wide street leading to the park, a street where the flow of people lessened and he could stand still without being knocked over.

“I’ve been thinking it over,” Dean said. “I don’t think pushing me out like that is going to work out.”

“For who?” Cas asked. His eyes narrowed to slits. “For you? In case you hadn’t noticed, Dean, this is my life.”

“You said you weren’t getting to really live your life,” Dean countered. “Come on, let me help you. I’ve got years of hunting experience. Years. Use me.”

He threw his arms out to the sides and decided to worry about how dodgy that last bit sounded later. With Cas, it probably hadn’t registered anyway. 

Before he had chance to find out, a shout rang out from the direction of the park.

“Castiel!”

It wasn’t Hannah. It was deeper, rougher. And Cas didn’t stick around to see who it was. With a startled look over Dean’s shoulder in the direction of the noise, he turned and took off. Fuck, but he was fast. Dean spared a moment to see who’d shouted and saw a guy with a deep tan and a grey suit striding across the road. Dude looked angry, in an intent, frozen-faced kind of way. And he was holding some sort of long knife.

“Fuck.” 

Dean span and dashed after Cas, almost knocking into Sam and the woman from the coffee shop as he went.

“Move!” he snapped as he passed them, and just glimpsed Sam pulling the woman to the side of the street as he ran on. 

It had been years since Sam had hunted, but he’d know Dean was fleeing from something, and he’d keep her out of harm’s way. Dean told himself he was sure of it, that he didn’t need to stop and make sure whatever was chasing him was taken out. He needed to catch up with Cas, make sure he was okay. 

Skidding round the corner to the main square, he saw Cas, every line of his body taut, slide to a halt. Cas’ eyes were wild as he turned, gaze darting all over before he swung back to face forward. To where a woman with red hair and another suit walked right at him, her eyes blazing. 

“Don’t run,” she said, and her voice echoed. “There is nowhere left to run.”

“No-”

Cas choked out that one word before she reached him, her hand outstretched, and Dean’s shout swallowed any sound of wings as the woman and Cas vanished.


	6. Evie

Sam almost ran into Dean, Evie by his side. He couldn’t have seen what he thought. There was nothing that just vanished like that. Not with a victim. 

“Dean?” he said. 

His brother was still braced for action, his whole frame tensed and ready. He didn’t look around at Sam to start with. When Sam circled him enough to see, Dean’s eyes were fixed and staring. 

“Dean?”

Sam held out his hand, not quite touching. He hadn’t seen Dean like this in years. 

Dean blinked and pulled back, focusing on Sam with an intensity that sat too well on his face, even after all this time in a civilian job. It was all too easy in this moment to remember Dean tracking, to remember him fighting and salting and burning. 

“What was that?” Sam asked. “Why’d it take Cas?”

“What the fuck just happened?” Evie asked, her voice distant. She had the sound about her of someone trying to rewrite their short-term memory, and failing. “Did Cas just…get body-snatched? By a guy in a suit?”

Glancing away from Dean, Sam took in the shock on her face and made a decision.

“You live around here, right?” he asked. “It close?”

Evie opened her mouth, closed it, gave Dean a searching look, and nodded. 

“Yeah. Just back that way.” She pointed over her shoulder, the action sure despite the struggle with reality she was no doubt going through. “I’ll need to check the shop’s okay without us, though. Cas had all on coping by himself yesterday when I got stuck out, and Maisie isn’t as calm under pressure. Seriously, it’s like Cas could manage under fire, you know?”

Her last two words slowed down, and she stared at the spot from which Cas had been taken.

“Yeah. I know,” Sam said, because he needed to get her moving and because he could imagine how jarring this was. “Come on.”

He had to turn Evie and give her a little push, and Dean didn’t move until Sam pulled on his shoulder. He glared at Sam, apparently less shocked and more worked up, and Sam tried to ignore that press behind his ribs. Dean looked angry. He looked upset. But he didn’t look shocked. 

Get out of sight, first. That was the thing. Sam couldn’t have this out with Dean in public. 

Evie bobbed into the coffee shop for mere seconds, returning with a grim nod as though she thought she was about to enter a war zone while still wearing a bright green Christmas jumper and a pair of purple jeans. She took the lead, walking swiftly, heading at first in the direction of Sam and Dean’s bed and breakfast and turning off into a side-street. The grey houses looked too small to Sam, barely wider than a car’s length and bundled into terraces. 

As soon as they were inside her place, Evie shut and latched the door, turning and resting her back against it as she fixed Sam with a look. With her hands behind her back and her hair trailing in wisps over her face, she looked tiny. Vulnerable. 

“You’d better be about to tell me what the hell’s going on,” she said. “Or I’ll find my nutcrackers and make inventive use of them.”

Okay. Not so vulnerable.

Evie pushed herself away from the door and stalked into the main room, pointing at the sofa until Sam sank into it and dropping down next to him, one leg tucked up. She left Dean where he was, standing by the door to the next room with a dark expression on his face.

“Spill,” she said. “Was that an alien? Is Cas up on some spaceship somewhere, fending off probes? Or is it fairies? I’ve read about the Fey and I do not like the thought of Cas with them. He’s far too trusting. Well, naive. Well, I’m not sure. I’m still working him out. But it’s like he isn’t always sure what’s going on, you know? But he’s hellish clever, so has the government snatched him for some project?”

“I doubt it’s aliens or the government,” Sam said. “And I’ve never come across the Fey.”

“Never come…?” She squinted. “But you say that like it could be Fey. So, it could be something magic related? Are you seriously telling me Cas could have been taken by the King of the Fair Folk?”

“Or the Queen, I guess,” Sam said. “If it’s that.”

He shrugged. Hell if he knew what was going on. In all the time he’d spent stuck in the hunting world, he’d never seen any person be vanished like that. Ghosts, yes. They blinked in and out. They didn’t take people with them, though. Much as he didn’t want to, he had to face facts. Dean was far too quiet. 

“Dean,” Sam said, turning his head only enough to see his brother on the other side of the room, “you got any theories?”

“You’re not gonna like this,” Dean said. He wasn’t looking at Sam and his jaw was tight.

“I already don’t like it,” Sam said. “Look, I can tell you know something. Just spill.”

Dean looked at him and away. In that moment, Sam saw worry. 

“Dragons,” Dean said. 

Sam felt his face crease in confusion. “You mean, like you asked about in the pub? Water dragons?” He really didn’t want to ask the next question, but he made himself. He could deal with the hollow taste of his world shifting under him later. “Have you been hunting?”

“What?” Dean scowled at the fireplace. “No. Not…not really.”

“What exactly does ‘not really’ mean, Dean?”

The first flash of anger warmed Sam. With years of long practice, he kept it in check, as much because he’d fought hard to get a handle on his anger and he wasn’t going to let this break it as that he didn’t want to scare Evie. She was doing really well with seeing something supernatural, but a huge guy losing his temper in her living room was another matter. There was barely space in here for Sam to exist, let alone to rage.

“It means ‘not really’,” Dean said, barely keeping the snap in his voice under control. “I didn’t go looking for it, all right? I never go looking for it.”

“Never…?” The leaden weight in Sam’s chest grew. “Dean, how often do you hunt? How many times have you told me you’re doing something else and you’re off chasing monsters?”

“Hardly ever,” Dean snapped. “A few ghosts that wouldn’t take long, a couple of monsters when no-one else was around to help. And the last one was ages back. I swear, most time, I find the signs and I call Bobby, have him get someone to deal with it.”

“You call Bobby-” Sam stopped, bit off his words and took a steadying breath. “We agreed, Dean,” he tried. “We agreed, if we were going to stay brothers, going to stay in each other’s lives, that it would be without all this supernatural crap. Hell, we cut ties with Bobby when he wouldn’t step away. We cut ties with Dad. You said-”

“I know what I said, Sam!”

Dean turned, his hands flexing and shoulders tense. 

“Then why’ve you been hunting?” Sam asked. 

He tried, really tried, not to see it as a betrayal. It was the only thing he’d asked of Dean. After what happened to Jess, after he felt himself crumble at how close she’d come to dying, he’d sworn he’d leave the life for good this time. Jess leaving him had him thrown enough that he’d slid into the Impala next to Dean, finding himself back on hunt after hunt. Until he’d met Sarah Blake.

Dean had promised. He’d promised, and still…

“I tried,” Dean said now. Tension leaked from him. “I tried, but even not going looking, even ignoring as much as I can, I know what’s out there, Sam, and I know how many people lose their family, their mom’s, and…” Dean’s indrawn breath juddered. “And I swear to you, I wasn’t looking this time, either. I really did just jump into the river to save that girl. And yeah, I know, it was stupid, and I was drowning, and then there was Cas.”

“There was Cas?” Sam asked. 

Next to him, he felt Evie shift on the sofa. 

“Cas saved me,” Dean said, and he looked at Sam. “He got hold of me and he pulled me out of there. I’d be dead if it wasn’t for him.”

“Cas got you out of the river? When it’s in flood?” Evie sounded equal parts disbelieving and impressed. She was doing better than Sam, in some ways, it seemed. “How? I mean, he looks like he swims, sure, but he never said anything about it. I tried to get him to go along to the pool, but he kept making excuses.”

“Cas got me out,” Dean said. “And now we need to work out why those dicks have taken him.”

“You said water dragons,” Sam said. The information was patchy, still, but Dean had given him enough to build a chain, even if he didn’t like the conclusion. “Is Cas a water dragon?”

Dean’s lips pressed together, but he nodded. 

“Shit.” Sam shook his head. “You had sex with a dragon? What the fuck, Dean!”

“Sex?” Evie shifted again, both feet hitting the floor as she adjusted her body. “With Cas? You and Cas? Had sex? Really? I’ve hardy ever seen him look interested in anyone.”

“You find that harder to believe than him being a dragon?” Sam asked, thrown by her focus.

Evie waved a hand as he turned to look at her, her dark hair bouncing as she tilted her head to the side and scrunched up her face.

“Eh,” she said. “I can get my head around sex. Well, mostly. Well, mostly when it comes to Cas. I don’t have an issue getting my head around sex for myself, you understand. And whatever floats your boat, right? Even when you don’t really want your boat to float that much. So I didn’t ever push it or anything, but early on I asked if he wanted to meet some people. He went on a drink or two, but no boat floating that I could make out. Boats certainly didn’t float past me, anyway, and he never really saw any of them again that I know of.”

“Hey, there was hardly any floating last night,” Dean said, and it was almost worth all this nightmare of monsters turning up in Sam’s life again to see the look that chased across Dean’s face after than sentence. “Whatever. The thing is, Cas is a dragon, yeah, but he’s good. He saved me and he saved the girl, and his sister said he’s being hunted.”

“Hannah said that?” Evie asked. 

“Is she a dragon, too?” Sam asked.

“She must be, right?” Dean said. “And she didn’t say what’s been chasing Cas, but what else could it be? And we don’t know what dragons can do, but Hannah whooshed out of Cas’ flat, and she didn’t use the door. It makes sense.”

Sam took a steadying breath and pushed his hand through his hair. He needed more time to think. Dean rushed in without thinking at least half of the time. It was one reason Sarah didn’t send him on many solo trips. Hell, she only employed Dean because he could charm the clients into almost anything, but she always sent Sam along because he stopped Dean from charming them into anything stupid. 

Like charming himself into the bed of a dragon. 

With his head cradled in his hand, Sam tried to think his way out of the anger and, yes, all right, fear that hearing about this had gnawing at his insides. He could admit he was afraid. He had to find a way to be strong enough to cope with this.

“At least tell me this dragon doesn’t sleep on a bed of gold,” he managed after a while. 

“Cas sleeps on a perfectly ordinary bed, so screw you,” Dean said. “And this isn’t helping us get him back. We need to hit the books, find out what this could be.”

“Hit the books?” Sam scowled into his hand. “We haven’t had any books to hit in years. What, do you have a secret stash in your suitcase?”

“Don’t be fucking petty, Sam,” Dean said, as though he was the sensible brother. “We’ll go the local library, get on the internet, ring Bobby. Something. There has to be something. And you, coffee girl,” Dean went on, “Can you get in touch with Hannah?”

“I don’t really know her that well,” Evie said. “She comes by to visit Cas most weeks, I think, but I don’t have her number. No. Wait. She did leave me something once. Asked me to get in touch with her if Cas ever needed her and… Where did I leave it?”

Muttering to herself, Evie got up and disappeared upstairs, the rattle of her feet resounding through the small house.

“Were you going to tell me this guy’s not human?” Sam asked.

“What good would that have done?” Dean asked. “Not like I was going to come back and see him, anyway. And you never like hearing about this crap.”

“Because there isn’t meant to be any of this crap anymore!”

Evie reappeared, the thud as she landed at the foot of the stairs sounding like a declaration of war. Sam just knew he wished by whom, and at what. She clutched a piece of paper in her hand. There was nothing remarkable about it. It was pale, ruled, folded. 

“I think this is it,” Evie said, and thrust it at Sam.

“Why do I want it?” he asked. 

Evie rolled her eyes and kept her hand out until Sam took it. Unfolding it, he saw a number and a symbol, with a chain of meaningless words underneath. 

“What is it?” Dean asked, but he didn’t come any closer. “Can we get hold of her?”

“I think it’s her phone number,” Sam said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. “Hang on.”

He tapped in the numbers and dialed, hearing it ring once, twice, three times. He was just about to hang up when a voice answered.

“Hello?”

It was a woman, by the sounds of it, shaky and weak. Not Hannah, as far as he could remember from the day before. He tried anyway.

“Hannah?”

“No,” the voice said. “No, you’ve got it a bit wrong. My name isn’t Hannah. It’s Anna. Can I help you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have lost all sense of how long this will be. It was meant to have finished, but it hasn't. So it goes.


	7. Sister

Dean snatched the phone from Sam’s hand practically as soon as his brother said Hannah’s name, turning to shield it from Sam, like he might try and take it back. 

“Hannah? Do you know where those bastards took Cas?”

“What? What are you talking about? Who’s Cas?” 

Not Hannah. Shit. 

“Anna,” Sam said, so quietly he almost mouthed the word. “She says she’s called Anna.”

“Anna?” Dean asked. 

“Yes.” She sounded dazed, and frail, if a voice alone could reveal that. “And who’s this? Why are you calling my sister about a Cas?”

“Your sister?”

Before Anna could answer that, the call cut off, and Dean was left with dead air. 

“Fuck.”

His grip tightened around the phone and he almost threw it, but Sam wrapped his hand over Dean’s before he could, shaking his head and prying Dean’s fingers from the phone. 

“Whoever that was, it wasn’t Hannah,” Dean said, spinning to face Evie as Sam took back his phone. “And she had no clue what I was talking about. You sure Hannah gave you that paper?”

Evie nodded, her expression wary. 

“Yeah,” she said, but she backed away as she said it, folding herself up onto her sofa with her arms wrapped around her knees. God knew why. “I’m sure. I remember sticking it right in my orange folder, and it’s the only piece of paper in there that’s got a number on it. I put it in there because it’s where I put all my odd bits of information, you know? Like favourite foods for relatives you might never meet again. That can come in handy, sometimes. You’d be surprised-”

“Dean’s a dick and he didn’t mean to scare you,” Sam said flatly.

Which…what?

“How did I scare her?”

The look Sam gave him was quelling. That’s what it was. Dean glared right back and took the piece of paper while Sam wasn’t paying attention. 

“Any chance you know what this symbol is?” he asked Evie.

“My name. In a language of my species,” Hannah said. “Now kindly explain why you upset my sister.”

Dean saw Evie’s eyes widen until the whites were clear around the edges, and he turned slowly to see Hannah standing at the foot of the stairs. Her eyes glowed blue. 

“Your sister?” Dean asked. “Because she says she’s never heard of your brother. You remember him? Cas? Yay high? Blue eyes that don’t glow like a bug-zapper like your’s do? Oh, yeah, and snatched by some guy in a suit who vanished in a puff of smoke. What gives?”

“It wasn’t in a puff of smoke,” Sam said, but he was watching Hannah warily, his posture ready to go for a gun he no longer carried. Old habits.

Hannah tilted her head, the glow in her eyes fading until they were their more human colour. 

“Cas has been taken?”

She sounded genuinely worried. 

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Don’t suppose you’d tell me who’s been after him. He wouldn’t tell me a damned thing past he’s been on the run for years and you keep getting him out of hot water. How come you dropped the ball this time?”

Hannah slumped, her exhaustion suddenly clear. She shook her head and glanced behind her, sinking down onto the bottom step and folding her hands in her lap. It looked like her strings had been cut. When she spoke, her voice was hollow.

“Anna called me,” she said. “She’s been restless lately. More…troubled than she has been in a long while. I couldn’t make sense of it, and I didn’t keep a close enough eye on my phone. Perhaps she sensed they were close to finding him.” She closed her eyes, her head dropping forwards. “I shouldn’t have left him. He doesn’t even know what they will do to him, how they’ll punish him.”

“For what?” Dean asked. “Did he piss off some ocean dragon or something? Steal someone’s favourite shell? What? I don’t know how you guys work things out.”

“Cas-” Hannah’s head rose and that one syllable was loaded with fire, quickly cut off. She visibly pulled herself back in. “If they have him, then Anna may not be safe, either. I need to get her to safety.”

Hannah’s hand shot out and gripped the post at the bottom of the stairs. Dean saw her hand tense and took the two steps to her before she could pull herself up, dropping into a crouch. With his face on a level with hers, the panic in her eyes was clearer. She was doing a good job of hiding it, but she was worried. Really worried.

“What about Cas? How do we get him back?”

She stared at Dean for a long, drawn-out moment.

“We can’t.”

“Bull. You’ve got him back before. He said. He remembers being caught, and you cutting him loose.”

Hannah’s face stayed remarkably blank, but Dean was looking right in to her eyes and he saw the shock and horror there.

“He remembers that?” she asked. “He shouldn’t. Noami said… She said he wouldn’t remember any of it.”

With a strength and speed Dean wasn’t prepared for, Hannah rose, pushing him back and leaving him on his back at her feet.

“You should run, Dean Winchester,” she said. “You’ve come too close to this, and after everything Anna and Cas sacrificed. Run, and be glad you don’t know more than you do.”

Before Dean could get back on his feet, she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell what's happening yet?


	8. Signs

Sam made Evie a cup of tea. Well, he tried.

Before he’d worked out how to fill the kettle, with its trailing cord and stand it had to be lifted off, she’d taken it from him and ordered him out of the way.

“You aren’t going to mess up my kitchen,” she said, as though Sam had already trampled footprints all over her floor. “And I’m making Yorkshire Tea, so I hope you like it strong. Will either of you want sugar? Not sure how much I have left. Plenty of milk, I think.”

Sam didn’t interrupt. She seemed to find her own words soothing, and in all honesty he found them pretty soothing himself. They were a far cry from Dean’s bitter silences. They’d left him on the sofa, blinking and glaring by turns.

“So,” Evie said, as the kettle boiled, “that was a dragon. A water dragon, right?”

“I guess so,” Sam said. He’d never met one, but he’d imagined a dragon would be more…dragon-like. Then again, a lot of things didn’t look the way people expected. He’d never seen a demon with horns, for one thing.

“I expected more wings,” Evie said. “Or a tail. Or something. And how can she be Anna’s sister and Cas’ sister, but they don’t know each other? That doesn’t make sense. Do water dragons have really complex family trees?”

“Maybe,” Sam said.

The kettle boiled and he watched Evie pour the water into the teapot. Steam boiled up, catching at the underside of the kitchen wall-cabinets and billowing out into the room. Evie chewed her lip as she watched it.

“Your brother seems upset,” she said. “I’m upset. Cas is my friend. But he just spent the one night with him, and he said not a lot happened, even. Not that it has to. But, come on, one night? Why’s he the one in meltdown and I’m making tea? Beyond the fact I’m British and tea is our response to pretty much any emotion. What did you say about sugar?”

“I didn’t.” Sam leaned around the door to catch sight of Dean. Still sitting glaring at the sheet of paper he’d taken from Sam. “Dean, he… He had it rough as a kid. We both did. But Dean had all this crap poured into his head about saving people. He takes it hard if anyone gets hurt on his watch.”

“Didn’t know he was guarding Cas,” Evie said. 

“Yeah, neither did I,” Sam said. “And no sugar. Thanks.”

He settled into thought as Evie got down three mugs and poured the tea, taking one with a brief smile and following her back into the living room. Dean didn’t look up as Evie set the mug down by him. 

Evie pulled a face at him, some cross between frustration and concern, it looked like, and took a drink of her tea.

“So,” she said, once she’d lowered the mug, “how are we getting Cas back?”

Dean looked up at that. 

“You want to help?”

“I…? Dean, I don’t know if you’d noticed, but out of the three of us, I’m the only one who’s known Cas more than a couple of days. Right? Unless there’s some secret relationship I don’t know about? No? Well, then. So I repeat, how do we get him back?”

“We need to know a hell of a lot more about what took him,” Sam pointed out.

“Water dragons. You heard Hannah.”

“I heard her dance around the topic,” Sam said. “Look, I am not happy about this. Not at all. We made a promise to each other, and you’ve broken it, Dean. Or bent it, at least. But we’re in this now, so much as I hate to say it, we need to call someone who can help.”

Dean looked up, looking far too young and hopeful for someone pushing thirty-seven. 

“Yes, Dean,” Sam said, before his brother could ask. “I’m thinking we need to call an actual, fully paid up hunter. Do you still have Bobby’s number?”

******************

Dean’s hands didn’t tremble as he tapped in the last number he had for Bobby. It had only been six months. Hunters went longer without speaking than that. No way would Bobby have ditched this number without leaving some way for Dean to get back in touch. No way. 

Still, every time he had an excuse…reason to ring Bobby, he worried that this time, this time the phone would ring out with no answer.

When Bobby picked up on the third ring it was almost an anti-climax. 

“Bobby?” he said. “Bobby, listen. We need your help.”

“Well hello to you, too, Dean,” Bobby said, irascible as always. “Good to know you haven’t been eaten.”

“Yeah. Sorry, Bobby. Meant to call.” Dean knew neither one of them believed that, just like he knew Bobby wouldn’t have called Dean. Bobby Singer respected someone getting out of the game, even if he saw no chance of it for himself. “But we do need your help.”

“We?”

The interest in Bobby’s voice only increased as Dean explained the situation, and Dean had to persuade a reluctant Sam to take the phone. It had to have been a decade since Bobby and Sam had heard each other’s voices, and Dean noticed that Evie took herself off somewhere about the time Sam teared up. 

Still, this was Bobby, and, second dad to them or not, he kept it brief and got back to business. 

“Yeah,” Sam said, and moments later had Bobby on speaker-phone. “Dean can hear you,” Sam said. “So, what do you have on water dragons?”

“Enough to know they don’t tend to hide out and serve coffee,” Bobby said. “What have you seen this guy do? This…what was it? Gus?”

“Cas,” Dean said. Bobby didn’t get names wrong. He was just being a dick because Dean’d let slip he’d spent the night at Cas’ place and this was how Bobby teased Dean about any hook-up. 

“Right. Right. Cas.” Bobby put a weird emphasis on it, but Dean didn’t rise to the bait. “Well, what did Cas do to show you he was a dragon of any kind?”

Bobby stayed sounding just as unimpressed as Dean explained what little he’d seen and felt of the rescue, and went on to describe Hannah poofing in and out, and her glowing eyes. Some time during the explanation, Evie slipped back into the room, holding a glass of water. She looked a lot quieter. The shock of it all must be catching up with her. She sat on the bottom step, where Hannah had been only a short while before, and rested the glass on her knees, her hands curled around it. Dean saw Sam glance at her a time or two.

“Doesn’t sound like any dragon I ever heard of,” Bobby said when Dean wound down, “but to be fair I’ve never hunted one, let alone a whole pack of the damp snakes. Let me see what I can dig up. Don’t you be a stranger, now, Sam.”

And the call ended.

“But I can be a stranger?” Dean asked the room. 

Sam gave him a look which said he knew Dean was buzzing to have Bobby on the case. Hell, now it felt like a case and not some weird-ass kidnapping in the middle of a strange, water-logged foreign town. 

“This Bobby,” Evie said. “He knows his stuff, then? He isn’t going to ring back and say dragons are huge, fire-breathing creatures that guard piles of gold in a mountain and we have to kill it with a special arrow or anything? Because he didn’t quite sound like he was on board with what you were saying. He sounded more like he thought you were both drunk.”

“That’s just Bobby,” Dean said. “He’ll come through.”

“So, what do we do now?” Sam asked. 

“We need to get Hannah back here,” Dean, “or find out who this Anna is. Something.”

“We should search Cas’ flat,” Evie said. She said it quietly, as though reading off a list. 

When Dean looked at her, she had a small frown pinching her brow, but otherwise her face was blank, her gaze fixed on some middle point. The water sat undrunk on her knees, still cradled between her hands.

“I’m assuming you can break in,” she said. “I did say he should let me have a key, in case he ever needed anyone to go in and look after the place, but he didn’t give me one. Probably worried I’d find scales or something. I thought it was just because he liked to keep to himself. Always thought he was a swimmer, with that body, and don’t tell me you didn’t notice, but I didn’t think he went swimming in rivers as a serpent.”

From all of that, Dean mainly got that Evie was having some trouble with this and that he needed to get out the lockpicks he’d picked out the first night in the country. He was not looking forward to hearing Sam’s views about that.

***********************************

Cas’ door gave easily. Too easily. Dean felt a burst of anger at Hannah, who claimed to be so concerned for Cas but let him live in this place with its simple lock and no security system. Perhaps she’d counted on it being out of the way enough for that not to matter. If so, her reasoning had failed.

Evie followed Dean in, refusing to be left behind despite still looking blank with some kind of shock. She’d taken the fist surprise too well, Dean reasoned, had rolled with Hannah arriving even and bustled about making tea. Dean would have preferred beer, but he’d given up a long while back thinking he could get everything he wanted. This blankness had crept up once she’d had time to think. It happened sometimes. What didn’t normally happen was a civilian witness coming on a case. 

Sure, it had been years since Dean had hunted properly, much though it had itched in his blood to get out there and kill the things that ripped families apart, and he’d given in more than he wanted Sam to know about. It had still been years since he’d felt like a hunter, had been years since he’d tracked and killed on a regular basis. He doubted people had started jumping into cases like this in the time he’d been more or less out of the game.

Still, Sam had overruled him. 

He flicked on the lights in the living room, checking over the scene just in case something had happened since he left Cas sitting on the sofa that morning. There had to be some clue. Something.

He left Sam and Evie searching the living room and made his way through to the bedroom, some part of him not wanting them in the space he’d shared with Cas for just one night. Dean wasn’t sentimental, but it rubbed him the wrong way that someone as sweet as Cas had been hauled out of his life, right in front of Dean, and Dean hadn’t been able to do anything about it, and Cas seemed private. He might not want the other two in the bedroom.

The sheets were still rucked up from where Dean and Cas had been in bed together.

Dean left the bed for now. He’d have noticed anything important during the night, he was sure. Instead, he searched along the top of the dresser, picking up the small, carved box and checking inside. Nothing. There was noting in the bowl apart from three polished stones and nothing at all in the picture frame. It stood empty. 

He was partway through the second drawer when he heard Sam call his name. 

Back in the living room, he found Sam and Evie standing in gloom, the blinds shut and no lights on. Evie stood with her head tipped back, staring up at the ceiling, and Sam held a torch in his hand. He nodded to Dean, his expression grim.

“Looks like this Cas knew more than he was letting on,” Sam said. “I found this in the TV cabinet.”

“A torch?” Dean asked. “So what? People have torches, Sam.”

“UV torches?” Sam asked, and flicked the torch on.

Dean felt his mouth open as he understood why Evie was fixated on the ceiling. It was covered in symbols, curving lines and jagged slashes and splashes that could have come out of one of Bobby’s more arcane books. Sam trailed the torch along to the wall, showing more shapes and symbols there. As Dean watched, Sam revealed markings over every spare bit of wall, floor and ceiling. Even the back of the door had a line of symbols marching down it.

“It might not have been Cas who made them,” Dean said, but he didn’t know why he was protesting. Cas hadn’t actually said he was totally clueless, just that he didn’t know who was chasing him. This could be some dragon alphabet or superstition for all Dean knew.

Sam ignored him, pulling out his phone and gesturing for Evie to take the torch. 

“What’s Bobby’s number?” Sam asked, and it took Dean a moment to remember Sam really had fallen out of touch with the old hunter. 

In the thirty minutes from Sam sending photos to his phone ringing, Dean had search the rest of the flat, Sam following and checking for symbols in each room. The bedroom was covered in them. Dean tried hard not to get creeped out by the huge, clearly symbolic circle painted on the floor around the bed.

“Yeah?” Sam said, answering on speakerphone and glancing at Dean and Evie. “What have you got for us, Bobby?”

“A whole lot of crap,” Bobby said. “Those symbols are nothing to do with any dragons I ever read about. That’s Enochian. Near as I can make out, your boy there was trying to keep out angels.”


	9. Pray

Cas had no alcohol in the place. None. Evie going to get some meant Sam coming over all mother hen and insisting she swap phone numbers with him. That was only after she refused to have Sam go with her. In a better mood, Dean would have found seeing Sam glared at hilarious. Hell, he always found it hilarious when Sarah did it, even though she never was much with the glaring. Now, though, it was just something holding up his beer.

“Let her go, Sam,” Dean said. “We got work to do.”

Sam’s jaw tensed, but he stabbed at his phone and nodded at Evie, who slipped out of the door without further fuss. Dean ignored Sam as his brother dropped down into the armchair, his long legs sprawling at odd angles what with how small the thing was. Sam could glower at him all he wanted. Dean had other things to think about.

“Angels,” Sam said, his tone flat, after a couple of minutes of thick silence. “You really think this Cas has been snatched by angels?”

“Bobby says it’s angels, it’s angels,” Dean said, but something in his gut roiled at the thought. Angels weren’t real. They weren’t real like vamps or shifters or ghosts were real. If angels were real, they’d been doing a piss-poor job of looking after God’s creation. 

If there was a God. 

“Besides,” Dean said in the face of Sam’s loaded lack of speech, “I’d have thought you’d be all over the idea. Didn’t you tell me way back that you pray?”

“I pray,” Sam said, the downward fall of his tone saying that was enough to make his point obvious. 

It wasn’t.

“What do you mean, you ‘pray’? That’s what I just said. You got a different meaning to the word I don’t know about?”

“No. Dean. No,” Sam said, his whole face pulling into one of those frowns that made Dean itch all over with the urge to wash Sam’s judgment from him. “But praying to God isn’t the same as saying actual angels are down here, on Earth, kidnapping people. Why would angels even do that?”

“Dragons,” Dean said, scowling at his own fingers in his lap. “Kidnapping dragons. A dragon.”

“What? Yeah. Right. Either way, does that sound like something an angel would do to you? I mean, angels are light and beauty and love and… I don’t know. Not kidnappers.”

“Maybe they are,” Dean said. “What do we know? I didn’t think they were guys in suits, but that’s what showed up and snatched Cas. For that matter, I didn’t think dragons lived in pokey little flats with cheap furniture and way too many pictures of flowers. Life doesn’t give us what we expect.”

He looked up to see Sam’s frown had been turned on the pictures Cas had up around the place. Why one person needed so many close-ups of daisies and roses and poppies, Dean had no idea. There certainly weren’t any real flowers in the joint. 

“So, what do we do now?” Dean asked. “Try ring Hannah again?”

“She didn’t sound much like she wanted to talk to us,” Sam said. “And I’ve no idea how we find an ‘Anna’ with no other information.”

Shifting his weight, Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out the paper with Hannah’s number on it. That squiggle on the paper looked a lot like the symbols Cas had on his walls, now he looked at it again. 

“Hey, you think this symbol’s, what did Bobby say, Enocian?”

“Enochian,” Sam said. “Let’s see it again.”

He peered at it for a few minutes, his frown slowly changing to a more focused look. When he looked back at Dean, that old light was there, the one that said Sam had a plan. Sure, Dean had seen the look in the years since they stopped hunting, when his brother came up with some way to get the artwork Sarah wanted from people who weren’t being over-keen on selling, but there’d always been a more focused edge when it’d been about ghouls and not Van Goughs. 

“I’d say they’re the same system,” Sam said. “And why would it be on here if it wasn’t to do with contacting Hannah? I mean, it’s with the phone number.”

“Unless it’s to stop that number falling into the angel’s hands,” Dean said. After all, the symbols on the walls were protections. Might be some small-scale protection symbol for the phone number. 

“Maybe,” Sam agreed. “We managed to use it, but I guess we’re not angels. Can’t hurt to try it, though. Got to be some way to use it.”

“Yeah. Not without checking with Bobby,” Dean said. 

That was one rule he’d stuck to, back when he’d first got back in touch with Bobby about a hunt, maybe eight months into his engineering degree. Bobby had insisted that if Dean was going to keep his occasional hunting from Sam, he was at least going to run things by Bobby. Sure, Dean bent that rule a time or two when it was clear he was dealing with a simple salt-and-burn, but for something new? Something he didn’t know? Yeah, he checked in. 

Sam gave him a searching look before nodding and sending a new photo. 

Just the chance they might have a way to get hold of Hannah gave Dean enough hope to move, and he pushed himself to his feet, scanning the room again for anything they might have missed. He hadn’t found anything by the time Bobby called again, and Dean was getting dizzy over speaking to his old friend so much after so many years of hiding it from Sam. They sat together on the settee and listened on speaker.

“You got any more of these sigils lying around you want to send to me, or are we doing this by installment?” Bobby asked.

“Haven’t found any more yet,” Dean said. “What you got for us on this one?”

“It’s Enochian,” Bobby said. “Pretty sure it’s some summoning deal, but part of it’s an angel’s name. Far as I can make out, you need a few things to make it work and then throw it in the bowl. Set it on fire.”

“And what? Instant angel?” Dean asked. 

He wasn’t sure they wanted an angel, not without knowing how to deal with one, and Bobby hadn’t given them any clue how to kill one of the things when they’d spoken earlier. 

“Yeah,” Bobby said. “Looks that way.”

“But it doesn’t have any instructions with it,” Dean said. “How was Evie supposed to know what to do with it? Why bother giving it to her without telling her how to use it?”

“No clue,” Bobby said. “Not got my crystal ball turned on today. You boys are going to have to work that out for yourselves. Right now I’m sending you the list of ingredients and what to do with them, but I’ve got nothing on how to contain or control an angel, let alone kill one, so I’m not sure you should be summoning one of the bastards.”

“They’ve got Cas,” Dean said.

“Who by the sounds of it you’ve known for a day,” Bobby said. “I don’t care how good he is in bed, Dean, you gotta ask yourself if he’s worth facing off against the power of Heaven for.”

“He’s not… Shut up,” Dean said, feeling the back of his neck flush. With luck, Sam wouldn’t notice. “Since when did we let some monster take an innocent-”

“By the sounds of it, it’s one monster taking another monster,” Bobby cut in. “And you know I told your daddy to leave well enough alone way back when. There are some things that are just beyond us.”

Dean closed his eyes, that pain stabbing fresh through him. Bobby had always said John had been killed by the demon he’d gone after, the yellow-eyed thing that had destroyed the Winchester’s lives, even though the people who’d found John’s body had seen no sign of it, and the police had classified it as suicide by gun. Bobby had muttered about possession and scoured the scene for signs, but he’d not got there right away. There’d been no signs.

“Look,” Sam said, and Dean could hear how tight his voice was. Sam didn’t find it easy to speak or hear about their dad, either, “if there’s a way to summon an angel, there must be a way to handle it when it’s here. You’ve got the best store of books in the US, Bobby. Or has that changed?”

“You damn well know it hasn’t,” Bobby said. “I’ve never been through them for angel-traps, though, and I’ve been looking since you sent me those first pictures and I’ve got nothing yet.”

“Well, keep trying,” Dean said. 

“Dean, you better not be about to do something dumb over a guy you just met who isn’t even human,” Bobby said. 

“He won’t,” Sam said, throwing Dean a hard look.

“Good,” Bobby said. “Because if I think you’re going to rush into this, I’m not sending you the list of ingredients.”

“Fine!” Dean said. “I won’t do anything stupid. You happy?”

“Happier than a pig in muck,” Bobby said, sounding like someone who’d last smiled in about 1979. “I’ll keep looking for anything to protect against angels, or contain them, but I gotta be honest. I doubt there’ll be anything to kill one.”

“You never know,” Sam said. “We’ll keep doing what we can on this end.”

The soft snick of the door opening cut off Bobby’s goodbye, and Evie held up two bags as she made her way inside. 

“Beer,” she said. “And snacks. We could just go back to my place.”

“With all the symbols on the walls,” Dean said, “we’re probably safer here. Maybe shouldn’t have let you go for supplies.”

“Let me?” Evie asked, dumping the bags on the counter in the kitchen area and pulling out a can. She popped the tab and took a swallow, her nose wrinkling. “Eh. Not the best, but it’ll do. So, what do we know? I figure there has to be something we can do, right? I’ve been thinking, and there must be some reason Cas came here and took up this cover.”

“Cover?” Sam asked.

Evie took another sip from the can and looked at him. 

“Cover,” she said, once the can was lowered. “You know. Pretend life.”

“I know what a cover is,” Sam said. “What about the cover are you thinking is important?”

This time, Evie turned and pulled out two more beers, throwing one to each of the brothers and watching them drink before going on. 

“I don’t know. Maybe something about the location. Lakes, maybe. Or hills. Or…well, what do I know about angels? Nothing. But there had to be some reason to think he’d be safe here, right? After already trying cities and stuff. I can’t see it being all about the coffee. Although why the coffee? We should look at everything and see if any of it helps us work something out. That’s what I meant.”

“We’ll get right on that,” Dean said, and drained his first beer. 

*****************************

Dean left it all of an hour before he pulled a bowl out of the kitchen cupboard and set it on the coffee table.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked, pausing halfway through a book on some kind of freshwater fish. He’d been searching every book in case there was any sign of some code or hidden message. 

“That list Bobby sent us, I’ve found most of the stuff for it right here. Cas had a bunch of herbs and other crap in boxes under his bed. Just need some blood and we’re set.”

“Wait a minute,” Sam said. “Bobby told us to wait-”

“And I’ve waited,” Dean said. “I’m doing this.”

“But I thought you said you promised your friend you wouldn’t,” Evie said. “Didn’t you say he was looking for ways to make it safer? And can you even summon an angel into a room warded against angels?”

Dean paused at that, a pinch of spice held above the bowl. He frowned.

“Never thought of that,” he said. “Guess we’ll find out.”

Sam didn’t go as far as pulling Dean away, but he looked plenty unhappy about what was happening. Still, he stayed, even when Dean pointed out Sam and Evie could leave if they were so worried. Instead, they both backed up until they were at the other end of the room, by the door, and watched Dean with careful expressions. Evie had her arms wrapped around herself, as though she was cold.

Dean almost wished he did believe in God, so he had someone to send a prayer to as he dropped in the match and watched the edges of the paper catch. 

Instead, he sent a thought to Cas, telling him to hang on, that they were looking for him.

A flash of light filled the room, and when it cleared Hannah stood glaring in the middle of the room, clutching another woman in her arms. 

“Why have you summoned me?” she demanded. “I told you, I have to protect Anna. You shouldn’t be getting involved.”

“Well, I am involved,” Dean said. “And I thought this summoned an angel. What the fuck is it doing dragging you here, anyway?”

Hannah’s lips pressed together and she darted a glance at Sam, at Evie, and down at the woman in her arms, before looking back at Dean.

“Help me with Anna,” she said. “I can see why-”

Whatever she’d been going to say, she cut herself off and shook her head.

“Just help me get Anna comfortable. I suppose this flat is as safe as where I was going to take her. For now.”

She wouldn’t say anything else until Anna was stretched out on the settee, her dark red hair feathered out against the pillow Dean brought from the bedroom. She refused a beer, her brow crinkling when Evie offered one, and then took the can as though she’d remembered some rule of etiquette. 

“So, you gonna talk, now?” Dean asked. 

Hannah looked like she’d rather be doing almost anything else, but she nodded.

“Very well. I suppose I should have known, when I spotted you in that cafe… I did try to get him to leave that afternoon, but he refused. We argued. That’s the only reason he was out in that pub for you to run into him. He’s picked up more of being human than I’d expected.”

“Okay,” Dean said, as though that made sense. “Mind telling us why Cas is in hiding from angels? And I’ve gotta come back to why did an angel summoning spell call you here? And what’s up with your sister? Cas never mentioned her.”

“You spent a few hours in his company, some of it engaged in carnal relations,” Hannah said. “I would be surprised if he felt the need to discuss his siblings with you.”

“Why does everyone keep getting hung up on that?” Dean asked. “Just spill, already.”

“I should send you away,” she said instead. “I should wipe your memories and send you away, but it hasn’t worked as well with Cas as I would like, and I’ve felt…uneasy about it, despite Gabriel explaining the necessity to me.”

“Gabriel,” Sam asked. “As in, archangel? He’s involved in this?”

Hannah nodded. And sighed.

“I suppose I should start from the beginning,” she said. “I… This story was meant to go differently, and it has been at risk of unraveling for some time. Maybe, if I tell you, if you can help, we can prevent it from falling apart entirely.”

Dean shared a look with Sam, who nodded. Right. Of course Sam would want to know whatever Hannah was talking about. Sam always wanted to know. 

“Go ahead,” Dean said. “Dazzle us.”

Hannah glanced at Anna and back at Dean.

“I suppose, the first thing you need to know is that the summoning worked on me because I’m not a dragon, of any kind. I’m an angel. Yes. I know what you heard. Cas doesn’t know what I am. He can’t. He’s as much in the dark about most of this as you are. If he’d known what he did, he would want to take action, and he already suffered enough. We agreed. He was better out of it.”

“Good job on that one,” Dean said. 

“We did our best,” Hannah said, but she sounded unsure. “We all did our best.”

Her eyes were clear and honest, and Dean felt like he was kicking a puppy. 

“Just tell us the story,” he said. “Whatever it is you’re all wound up about, whatever Cas did or you did, just tell us. Let us help.”

Hannah nodded. 

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

She settled herself, her movements looking more human, less precise, for a moment, and rested her hands on her knees.

“Then I should start with Anna. She’s the reason events unfolded as they did, and we all ended up playing these roles. She’s the one who heard the plan.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I've posted this one in the wrong fic, I don't even care. Just read it. Welcome to postmodern fic.

Hannah sounded unsure, still, as she spoke, but her words came more smoothly after a while. She glanced at Anna every now and again, or around at the room, and she sat precisely on the settee, like sitting at all was something she’d had explained to her but not practiced much.

“She is my sister, or used to be”, she said “Anael. When you were very small, she decided she’d had enough of being an angel. I don’t know if she’d already heard whispers of the plan or not. She was Garrison Commander, so I suppose she had much more chance of it than I did, up in Heaven, but whatever the reason, she tore out her Grace and became human.”

Hannah shook her head when Dean opened his mouth to ask a question.

“The main point is, she was reborn into a human life. But she wasn’t really human. She was still an angel, still a Seraph, and when she got older she couldn’t ignore the voices anymore. Especially when they started talking about the End of Days. She was horrified, not just at the apocalypse, but at conversations she heard which made it clear Heaven was manipulating things to bring it about, that they wanted the final showdown. Anna fell to be human, to be allowed to feel, not to watch the world be destroyed.”

“And she told you about that?” Sam asked.

“No. No. She told her old second in command,” Hannah said. She met Dean’s eyes for a fleeting second. “She told Castiel.”

“Cas is a water dragon,” Dean said, as though that wasn’t a weird enough thought.

But Hannah was shaking her head.

“No. That’s what we told him, when we wiped his memories and left him here.”

No-one said anything for a while. Sam had his thinking face on, Evie stared into her can as though the secrets of the universe might be hiding in the beer, and Dean struggled with whether getting heavy with an angel was better or worse than with a dragon. 

The worry gnawing under his breastbone was the same, either way.

“Castiel didn’t want to speak to Anna at first,” Hannah went on eventually. “You have to understand, to be Fallen is the worst thing. It’s disgusting. Unforgivable. And just one example of the lies our superiors fed us. But Castiel has always been more open to change than most, and he did listen. Reluctantly, half-thinking he would turn her over to Heaven. But he listened. And he looked into it, and found proof.”

“And he brought that to you?” Sam asked, and it was all too easy to remember Sam’s law training in the calm way he asked that. Calm and focused and fact-finding.

“He brought it to a lot of us,” Hannah said. “Rachel and Balthazar and Samandriel and others. I wasn’t a part of things at first. Not high enough in the ranks. But Castiel’s campaign gained ground, and notice, and he had to flee from Heaven. Those of us who learned the truth from his spies, well, we had to choose to ignore it or to defy our orders. I chose the latter.”

She stopped and sighed, a ragged breath, and Dean got just a glimpse of how hard that must have been for her.

“You have to understand,” she said, “that Heaven is strict. Far stricter with its angels than with the souls it keeps after death. The plot was thwarted. People who were meant to be pawns in the plan were…dealt with.” She glanced at Sam, at Dean, and down at her own hands. “We kept secrets, worked as much as possible without showing who we were. Those of us who became known had to run, or were killed. It…”

Those were tears. An angel sat in front of Dean with tears in her eyes. 

“Hey,” he said. “You’re telling us you helped save the world, right?”

She nodded, not looking up.

“Then any of you who died, died heroes,” Dean said. “And I am sorry to hear they were lost, but you said it’s done with, right? You won? You stopped it?”

“We stopped that plan, yes,” Hannah said. “Too many angels became aware of the plan, and we managed to stop some of the steps. There was a seal which needed to be broken. And we stopped it.”

She looked at Dean again.

“We stopped it, and fought our brothers and sisters, and Castiel talked Gabriel into helping us. I don’t know how. He wouldn’t ever talk about it. And at the end, Heaven still wanted Castiel dead, and Raphael punished Anna for hearing what she did. I only just got to her in time to save her life, and I haven’t been able to undo all of the damage.”

“And Cas? They came after him too?” Dean asked, already feeling the shape of the answer.

“Yes,” Hannah said. “Gabriel saved him once, but the power balance between the archangels is precarious, to say the least. Gabriel doesn’t want to be in Heaven. He hates the conflict. If he hadn’t managed to bring Michael round, at least enough to wait until the End of Days is due without manipulation, then we’d all be hunted. As it is, those of us who kept our names out of it are still free, and the rest are fled or… Well. Castiel wanted to fight on, to stop the punishments for angels who stood up against the plan, and he wouldn’t listen when Gabriel told him it was the best outcome we could hope for. Considering.”

Dean grimaced.

“Letting angels who stood up for us get reamed? That’s a the best outcome?”

“Better than pushing Raphael into a counter-attack, yes,” Hannah said, but she didn’t sound happy about it. “As I said, it’s precarious. And Castiel was risking setting off another battle, a civil war. So Gabriel put him in witness protection.”

That took a moment to sink in.

“He did what now?” Dean asked. “You get that witness protection doesn’t mean lying to someone about their species. Right?”

Hannah nodded, but she looked wary.

“And why even tell him he’s a fucking dragon? Why not just tell him he’s human, if you’re having him live a human life?”

She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes as though needing to study him carefully for hidden meaning. He let her. One strange thing at a time, here.

“Gabriel took his memories,” she said, “and limited his strength, his powers. But Gabriel couldn’t stop him from being an angel without stripping him of his Grace, and that would leave him too vulnerable. And mortal. That would be a poor payment for everything he did.”

“Shoving him into this sounds like crappy payment, too,” Dean said. He wasn’t sure why he was so defensive about the guy. He’d only just met him. “And what about the angels getting punished? That good payment?”

To her credit, Hannah looked uncomfortable.

“Gabriel managed to get many of their punishments softened, and they returned to their duties.”

“In one piece?” Sam asked.

“No. Not…entirely.”

Dean had a horrible feeling he knew what had been taken from those angels.

“He altered their minds, too? Didn’t he?”

“Only as much as he had to,” Hannah said, her voice rising. “To keep them from knowing other names to give. And he kept them from being handed over to Naomi, whenever he could. She would have stripped them down to their base states. Trust me, Gabriel’s done what he can.”

“And that doesn’t include keeping an eye on Cas?” Dean asked. “Because it looks to me like not everyone’s on board with the forgive and forget plan.”

She didn’t answer that. 

“So, he’s not a dragon?” Evie asked. “He’s an angel. I’ve been telling an angel to pour coffee. That is the weirdest shit I ever did hear. Weirder than the time my cousin ate three crisp packets. Not crisps. Crisp packets. Off kid, that one. And he’s been taken by some of the angels who wanted the end of the world?”

“They most likely work for Raphael,” Hannah said. “Raphael was a healer. I swear it. But the conflict in Heaven has been going on for a long time, and pride has been an issue there. Michael hardly speaks to anyone but Gabriel now, from what I hear, and he’s ignoring anything to do with the plots. He’s just…put it behind him. But Raphael can’t. Won’t. He wants Castiel to suffer and die, publicly, for being the first angel to turn against the hierarchy.”

“I thought Anna did that first?” Sam asked, and he sounded as though all he wanted was clarity on that point, just to make sure his notes were in order, like this wasn’t a thousand times stranger than any case they’d ever been on, even back when they were hunting full time with Dad.

“Anna is Fallen. She doesn’t count in that way,” Hannah said. “Whether you think it fair or not, Castiel is the one Raphael blames for this. He was meant to play a role in the plan, as it was, but not this role. I’m afraid that Raphael has set his sights on Castiel’s ending as some balm to his pride.”

“So,” Dean said, “we need to rescue him from Heaven before a pissed off archangel has him hung, drawn and quartered in the pearly town square? That what you’re saying?”

“He hasn’t been taken to Heaven,” Hannah said. “Not yet. At least, there’s been no news of that, and I think Raphael would announce it. We have no chance of saving him once he’s in Raphael’s hands up there. No. They must still have him down here.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Dean asked. “Let’s go get that memoryless angel-dragon and bring him back to a life of coffee and cake.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one which has been on quite a break. Still, it won't be a massive long one, so I might have it finished in a few days, now. Thanks to anyone still reading!

Traveling by angel was…a thing. 

Dean felt Hannah’s hand drop to his shoulder and the world around him dissolved. His body dissolved. For a drawn out moment, that lasted forever and was done in a heart-beat, he hung in nothing, was nothing. 

His boots hit the ground and he stumbled, his insides lurching.

“That was intense,” he heard Sam say.

“We’re about ten minutes walk away,” Hannah said. “From the map, they have him at the visitor center just down this track.”

She gestured along the dirt path, which wound between tall pines and ferns. Well. Mud path. 

If the place had been open today, there was still no-one in sight as they made their way down and to the edge of a car-park. Hannah didn’t seem surprised by the lack of people. Maybe she just didn’t tend to think of them.

“Up there,” she said, her gaze already fixed on the building above the car-park.

As Dean peered up, a flash of bright light erupted inside the building, illuminating the tall windows along the front. 

“What was-?”

“They’re torturing him,” Hannah said, and there was a hint of saddness there but nothing like the level of horror such a statement deserved. “Most likely to find out what he knows, who he worked with. Or else to get him to confess.”

“You said he doesn’t remember anything,” Dean said. 

“He doesn’t.”

“And that Gabriel is in charge in Heaven now. The guy who helped him stop it.”

Hannah’s lips pressed together, and she scowled.

“That doesn’t matter. Castiel still went against orders, and Raphael has punished others for it, even though they worked on Gabriel’s orders at the end. Michael wouldn’t stop it, and that’s as good as condoning it. You have to understand, Dean, that Heaven runs on order. Even if it seems unfair-”

“It’s more than unfair, lady,” Dean said.

“Even so. Order shapes our existence. If we won’t follow order, we don’t get an existence. Too many still remember what Castiel did, even with Naomi wiping what she can, and having him break and beg forgiveness will go a long way to making Raphael feel secure.”

“No-one’s breaking Cas,” Dean said.

He hefted the weapon Hannah had given him, a shorter version of her own sword, and tried to get a feel for its weight and balance. It was silver, a pointed spire rather than any kind of dagger he’d used before, but Hannah said nothing they had would harm an angel. 

He’d used whatever he had to.

At Sam’s signal, they ghosted toward the building, making it right up to the wall without any sign they’d been seen. It was a shame they couldn’t drop right in, but Hannah said they might be on the lookout for another angel arriving, even with thinking Cas was alone. 

With the brick pressing into his shoulders, Dean glanced over at Sam, who was the other side of the door. If they had Cas in the room that lit up, they’d chosen the gift shop, of all places, to stow him.

Hannah, on Dean’s other side, let out a soft sound of pain, and on its heels the building lit up again. 

This close, Dean could hear the screams from inside. 

He moved, but Hannah’s hand on his arm stopped him. She pulled him close and he went with it, not that he’d have had much chance to resist.

“The heart or the eyes,” she hissed, right into his ear, and let him go.

Hannah moved fast. She was first through the door, Dean and Sam either side and slightly behind, and she barely paused to take in the scene before she moved.

In a chaotic rush, Dean processed what he could.

Five people in suits stood around the room, the displays pushed back to create a space in the middle of the room. Another angel, this one an old, slimy looking guy, stood before Cas. And Cas…Cas was strapped to what looked like part of a tree-trunk, the size of it incongruous in the space. He’d lost his shirt somewhere along the way and welts of red tracked across his torso.

Dean didn’t have time to be freaked by the light slipping through the gashes.

“Get away from him,” Hannah all but snarled, and leaped right at the slimy guy.

Another angel got in her way, parrying her blow and driving her back, and Dean didn’t have time to take in any more before a tall blond guy smashed into him and the fight was on.

It was years since he’d fought this hard. Turned out, it was something he didn’t forget. 

He landed on the ground, the blong guy under him, and felt the judder as the dagger pushed through his ribs. Blue light flared, and Dean stumbled back to his feet to see black wings scorched into the floor. 

Dazed, he span round and right into another angel, this one not making the mistake of getting too close. Instead, it showed Dean that his knife-skills were sorely lacking, and he found himself driven back towards Sam, who downed a woman with red hair moments before Dean reached him.

Further away, Hannah fought two others, the older guy yelling something Dean didn’t catch. 

Cas looked to be out cold.

“Little help here!” Dean shouted.

It took both of them to fight this one off, and Hannah finished with her two by the time they were done, twirling her blade and facing the last one with a look on her face Dean was glad wasn’t directed at him. 

“Zachariah,” she said. “I should have known you’d be involved.”

“Little Hannah?” the man said. Sneered. 

Dean had met some people in his life who needed the oil squeezing out of them, but this guy might be in the top three. 

“I just took out two of your seraphs,” Hannah said, and there was no hint of fear in her voice at facing what must be a senior angel. “Castiel taught me many things.”

“He certainly taught you to screw over your own life,” Zachariah said. He sounded almost amused, as though this couldn’t possibly mean more than a brief blip in his day. “Do you seriously expect to walk away from this? You’ve just confessed to being on Castiel’s side, to taking part in his sordid little rebellion. Tell me, when we stake you to the Third Gates, do you want your wings up, or down?”

Fuck, he even mimed it, holding his hand at shoulder-height, palms down, like putting on a half-assed play for a kid. 

“The only wings being staked out here will be yours,” Hannah said.

Dean caught Sam’s impressed look. He had to admit, he was kind of impressed himself. Even John Winchester at his best hadn’t managed to be much more full of vengeance. 

“You get ahead of yourself,” Zachariah said. “I’m here on Raphael’s orders-”

“But you aren’t meant to work for Raphael,” Hannah cut, voice hard. “You’re under Michael’s command. What will he say, when he hears you’ve attacked one of his own?”

“As you’re officially one of Raphael’s, and he’s the one who has a more hands on approach to these things, I doubt I’m the one who has to worry,” Zachariah said.

He smirked, and adjusted a cuff-link on one sleeve.

“Now be a dear and run along. I have some business to take care of.”

“We’re not leaving Cas,” Dean said.

It was insulting, the way the angel jerked his head around as though he hadn’t even noticed Dean.

“You let them speak?” Zachariah asked, with obvious disgust. “Have you no sense of decency?”

“Listen, pal,” Dean said, taking a step closer, the angel dagger ready for use in his hand, “we ain’t standing here here and watching you carve up the guy who kept the world spinning.”

At that, the angel’s lip curled.

“Spilling Heaven’s secrets, Hannah?” he asked. “My my. You really do want to suffer an age of agony.”

“Dean!” Sam said, as Dean moved to take another step.

Zacharian started in what might even have been genuine surprise. 

“Dean? Don’t tell me… Not Dean Winchester?”

“What of it?” Dean asked, and only realised Hannah was glaring at him as the confirmation slipped out. 

Zachariah looked Dean up and down like he was considering buying him, and did the same to Sam right after. The delight on his face made Dean faintly nauseas.

“Oh, this is too good,” he said. “Gabriel hid you from us. Did you know that? And that’s after Castiel here and his little Fallen side-kick stopped Sam’s girlfriend from burning on a ceiling. It would have been poetic, don’t you think? On the anniversary of your mother’s death, too. We had it all planned out. A story for the ages. Well, the end of ages, but either way it had style.”

Dean’s head span and he though he needed to throw up. He couldn’t even check on Sam, because if his little brother felt a fraction of what Dean thought he would at hearing Jess’ death talked about like that… 

He knew Sam struggled with the guilt of not telling Jess about the supernatural sooner, and that a good part of why they broke up, even when everyone could see they loved each other, was because Jess needed to process it all. By the time Sam made it clear enough to Dean that they cut ties with hunting, and by extension, without wanting to, with Dad, Jess was already most of the way out the door. 

“You’re angels,” Sam said. “You’re supposed to be agents of good, of holiness. How can you talk like this?”

And he sounded grim and he sounded contained, and that was more worrying than Sam raging. It was the way Sam had gotten when Dad had made it clear they either hunted or effectively became orphans.

“Agent of…?” Zachariah smiled at Sam, the way adults smiled at children who thought something adorably stupid. “Holiness isn’t the same as some feel-good fable you humans tell each other. It’s devotion. It’s obedience. Standards have really slipped in the religions if you think it’s about being good.”

“Why us?” Dean asked. “How could we have anything to do with any of this?”

But that part of him which screamed blue murder when he was being lied to was dormant. That part of him bought this angel’s words.

“Details,” Zachariah said. “But the two of you were going to start the apocalypse, and play a big part in the final battle. We’ve been thinking it’s all lost, that we’ll have to wait until we get two brothers of your line again, with the right set-up. But if I kill Sam now, we can just start up from where we were. More or less. I have the feeling you’d play your part, Dean. A man like you doesn’t change that much in a few years.”

Zachariah raised his hand, finger poised to snap, and Dean tensed to throw himself in front of Sam. 

He’d completely lost his footing in all this, but he had to keep Sam safe if he could. 

“I should thank you, Hannah, for being so kind as to bring them right to me,” Zachariah said.

A groan brought everyone’s attention round, and Cas opened his eyes a slit, his head not fully upright. 

“What’s happening?” he asked. “Hannah…what’s going on?”

“I’ll explain,” Hannah said, although Dean wasn’t at all sure she meant it. “Just hold on, Castiel.”

Dean could tell she knew it was a mistake, the moment she said it. Cas’ eyes widened, enough they almost looked to be open normally, and he stiffened.

“Castiel?” he said. “That’s what they called me. That’s…really my name? Is the rest true? Hannah, is the rest true?”

Hannah’s gaze darted from Cas to Zachariah and back, and indecision poured from her. 

“Yes!” Dean broke in. “If they said you’re an angel, then yes. And we need this dick gone, Cas, or he’s gonna make everything you did a waste of effort. A waste of lives. Did they tell you what you did?”

“I fought against Heaven,” Cas said, the words sounding punched out.

“You fought to save the world,” Hannah said, Dean’s words apparently making her decision for her. “You saved the world, Castiel. And now I have to save you.”

Hannah flung herself at Zachariah, and from the look on his face it wasn’t something he’d anticipated. For a second, Dean thought she’d made it, but the guy stepped aside at the last moment and Hannah only got in a slash across his arm. 

Dean moved, circling the other way, and lunged as soon as he was close enough. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam going the other way, toward Cas.

Hannah and Dean kept Zachariah turning, blocking and countering, and Dean was certain it was disbelief that he was being attacked by creatures he thought so far beneath him that kept this angel from just obliterating them. If they were lucky, that arrogance would keep him from effective action long enough to get Cas free and out of there, and then they’d just have to see how fast Hannah could fly. 

Dean couldn’t let himself think of another outcome.

He certainly didn’t expect the silver blade to appear from Zachariah’s right eye-socket, or for the guy’s body to jerk and spasm, or for the light to blind Dean for a solid ten seconds.

When it cleared, it was to find Zachariah on the ground, wings larger and grander than those of the other angels spread on the ground, and Cas…Castiel standing over him, the look on his face steely. 

“Castiel,” Hannah said.

She had a wound seeping light up her arm, and her other hand clamped over it. Her stance was far from steady. 

“Hannah,” Castiel said. He stood straighter than he had before, when Dean met him in that pub. “You have some explaining to do.”


	12. Chapter 12

They had to walk up to Cas’ flat. Hannah sent Dean and Sam in to break some of the lines, and as soon as they were inside she set about altering the protections.

“I don’t know how far you knowing what you are might change things,” she said. “And they know you’re here, now. In the area. This wasn’t meant to happen.”

“No,” Cas said, frowning at her from his place by the far wall, where he stood with his arms folded, “I imagine it wasn’t.”

Hannah slumped, and kept drawing.

“You think maybe you’re being a little harsh on her?” Dean asked. “Man, she’s been keeping you safe all this time.”

“She’s been lying to me all of this time,” Cas said, his words stone. “Dean, you should get out of here. Those people, those…angels, they were adamant they’d break me. They won’t just give up.”

“Yeah, no,” Dean said. “From what everyone’s said, me and Sam are a part of this no matter which way we turn. We’re staying. Right, Sam?”

“Right,” Sam said, though he didn’t sound pleased. 

And, yeah, Dean could get why. Sam wanted out of the life. He’d let Jess go with far less of a fight than Dean had expected, because he respected her need to not be in the life, and then he’d found a way to get himself and Dean out. He’d thought for good.

Sam was likely still riled at Dean admitting he’d stayed as active as he had. This had to be driving him to distraction.

“How you holding up?” Dean asked his brother.

Sam shook his head.

“How am I meant to be holding up?” he said. “Bad enough we’ve been dragged through this shit since we were kids. Now we’re meant to accept it’s our destiny to help end the whole world? Just what did you get us out of?”

He addressed this last part to Hannah, who didn’t look at him as she kept working, creating a sigil far more complex than any Dean had seen earlier. It curved and hooked and looked altogether eldritch. 

“You heard Zachariah.”

“He spouted vague crap. Give us something to work with, here. Why the hell was he going to kill Sam?” Dean asked.

But Hannah pressed her lips together and shook her head. 

“You won’t get anything out of her she doesn’t want to give you,” Cas said, sourly. “Believe me. I’ve asked her plenty of times over the years. Of course, I’ve been asking the wrong questions.”

Cas sighed, and Dean had time to wonder what sorts of things Cas had asked. About his family, maybe? About why he was living all alone and having to pretend he was human?

Without wanting it, Dean’s heart ached for this angel that had spent the last few years thinking it was a water-dragon. That had to be some head-fuck, right there.

He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to scrub away the worry and irritation and whatever-the-hell-it-was he was feeling for Cas.

“You say they won’t give up?” he asked. “Even with Zac taking a giant toothpick to the eye?”

“It’s not a toothpick,” Cas said. “It’s a blade formed of my Grace-”

He cut off, grimacing, and Hannah span around and was by his side in moments, grabbing him as he clutched at his head and crumpled to his knees.

“Castiel,” she said. “You can’t… You need to avoid thinking about it. You should rest.”

“That’s happening because he remembered something about being an angel?” Dean asked, because the timing was too close to be coincidence, and no matter what anyone said, Dean was not stupid. “Thought you said Gabriel wiped his mind?”

Cas gripped hold of Hannah’s arm and looked at her in something close to horror.

“My mind? Gabriel? Gab- The archangel? But he went missing. How…?”

“Please, Castiel,” Hannah said. Pleased. “Please, stop asking questions. I’m supposed to keep you safe, and that includes from yourself. If they come after us, we need to be ready. You need to be rested and you have to stop trying to remember.”

But it was clear that Cas was ignoring that advice. Form the way his face creased and he hunched over, he was in a lot of pain. 

“Maybe you should listen to her, Cas,” Dean said. “No good to anyone if you explode your head over this.”

Cas ignored him, too.

He grimaced, made a noise through gritted teeth that made Dean wince, and a low whine started. It built quickly, until Dean felt it rumbling through him, and until he thought he could feel it trembling the room, and it was starting to hurt, and-

“Cut your hand,” Hannah said, her voice cutting clear through it all, and it took Dean a minute to work out who she was talking to. “Dean! Cut your hand. Press you palm against that sigil. Do it now!

If it meant stopping the building noise sawing at his head, Dead would cut himself. Not like it would be the first time.

He yanked his pen-knife out of his pocket and slashed at his hand, catching sight of Sam’s wide eyed worry as he did so. No time for that.

He crossed the room in quick strides and planted his palm firmly on the large, hooked sigil. 

The noise cut out. 

When Dean looked round, Cas was slumped against Hannah, out cold, and Hannah was staring at a new figure in the middle of the room.

It was a man: short, brown-haired, golden-eyed, and with a smirk that made Dean want to check his pockets hadn’t been rifled. 

“Who the hell are you?” he asked, when no-one explained.

“Me?” the guy asked, pointing a finger at himself as though equally delighted and appalled by the question. “You’re looking at your salvation, bucko. A little respect, please.”

“Respect?” Dean asked.

“Dean,” Hannah said, his name a drawn out in something not much further from a plea than the way she’d been talking to Cas. 

“Fine,” Dean said, pretty sure he knew who this must be but needing to hear it. “Could you tell me who you are? Please?”

From the tilt of the guy’s head, Dean’s tone and jaw-tensed smirk hadn’t gone unnoticed, but nothing was said about it.

“Since you ask so nicely,” he said. And he smiled, big and wide and terrifying. “I’m the archangel Gabriel, and the four of you have really kicked over the ant-hill. Good thing you thought to call me down here, because Michael is pissed, and let me tell you, you do not want to piss off the guy who spent millennia holding a grudge against Lucy.”

“Michael is displeased?” Hannah asked from her place on the floor.

Gabriel shrugged and kept his eyes on Dean.

“Michael’s always displeased,” he said. “I think he enjoys it. Or maybe a stick got stuck so far up there he can’t reach to pull it back out. Whichever. But, yeah, he’s especially ready to smite first and ask questions later.”

The room stayed silent as Gabriel sauntered over to the couch and dropped onto it, stretching and laying his arms along the back. 

“So, kiddos,” he said, “we’d best get down to business, before Raphael gets the go-ahead to raze this town to the ground. It’s water-logged, but I have faith in my brothers to get anything burning. Which means we either get you all running, or we finally finish what we started years ago, and finish off this apocalypse for good.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty sure this is my first time writing Gabriel. If not, he's pulled a Trickster on me and messed with my head.

Dean shared a look with Sam that said his brother was no clearer on anything than Dean was. Over by the door to the small hallway, Evie stood with her arms folded across, her lower lip caught between her teeth. They’d moved Anna to the bedroom before they went after Cas, and Evie looked for all the world like she was guarding the way. She hadn’t said anything since they got back other than to gasp at the state Cas was in. Best to keep Gabriel from paying attention to her if possible.

Dean looked back at this archangel Gabriel to see the guy smirking up at him, his eyes too golden to be mistaken for human. 

“Thought Cas here stopped the apocalypse already,” Dean said.

He didn’t miss the flicker of annoyance or something similar that flashed in Gabriel’s eyes. Gabriel shrugged and pulled a face that didn’t match that flash, something that said he wasn’t overly invested in whatever happened. It was no skin off his nose. They could lie in their beds, and so on. Dean wasn’t buying it. 

“Not so much stopped as…delayed,” Gabriel said, waving a hand in a rocking motion. “Kind of removed a few key components so Heaven has to wait for new ones to be in stock. Only, wouldn’t you know, the items decided to try delivering themselves.” Gabriel’s expression hardened, all mirth washing away. “Want to tell me who’s bright idea that was?”

From her spot on the floor, where she was still tending to Cas, Hannah looked across. She looked more nervous than when they faced Zachariah. 

“They had Castiel,” she said. “I didn’t have any other back-up.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. Somehow, it did nothing to lessen the threat in his expression.

“I don’t want dear old Cas strung up as an example to us all, trust me. For one thing, he gets so noble about everything. If you’re going to be a martyr, at least do it with style, am I right? But better that than undoing all of the work we put into bringing Mikey round. Sure, he’s thought again. He’s spent time angsting over Daddy’s plan and how he shouldn’t have messed with it, but can I be sure he won’t snap back to his pet project if these two shiny toys turns up under his nose?”

“I’m guessing that’s a no,” Dean said. 

“Give the boy a prize,” Gabriel said. “So, now the two of you have turned up, we need to work out damage limitation.”

“Cas already covered that,” Dean said. “That dick who took him’s dead.”

“Okay,” Gabriel said. “Yeah, I suppose that helps. Except for how there’ll be an investigation. Come on, boys, you don’t think someone as slimy as that Seraph will stop being an issue just because he’s dead?”

Sam cleared his throat and frowned.

“Er. It seems like being dead might do that, yeah.”

“Well, you’re wrong,” Gabriel told him. “Look, Raph’s pissed as anything that Mikey’s listening to me again. Years the two of them have had just to themselves. And now here I am, getting to do the family bonding thing as we talk though why, maybe, blowing up all of creation might just be bit on the rash side. Zachariah is not meant to be working for Raph, but you can bet that just means he’s got closer tabs on things than he does on his official people. Right, Hannah?”

That last was said with a slide of the eyes over to Hannah, who pressed her lips together and looked away.

“I fulfill my duties,” she said. “Raphael doesn’t own me.”

“Bit of a radical mindset, there,” Gabriel said. “You let me know how my brother takes being told that at your next annual review.”

“What exactly are you saying we need to do?” Dean asked. “And what about Cas? He’s hurting. This whole secret identity thing might have worked better if it wasn’t a secret from the guy having to play it!”

Gabriel laughed. Actually laughed.

“Believe you me, Deano,” he said. “Before I got on board this crazy train, I did some research. I know a few seers from back in the day. And if I’d let things unroll the way they were going to, let all those threads be woven right into the tapestry my brothers had planned out, you’d know exactly how self-sacrificing and stubborn that dour-faced angel can be. No, he was the first one who had to be made to forget.”

Dean rubbed a hand over his face and took a seat. This wass just too much to take in all in one go. And…

“Wait. What do you mean, I’d know? Cas and I were meant to know each other?”

“You and Cas?” Gabriel snorted. “Oh, buddy. You have got no idea. But,” he went on, clapping his hands together and sitting forwards, “what’s gone is gone. We need a new plan. If Cas is cracking open his basement memories then we need to do a controlled break-through, or he’ll shake himself to pieces. And then we need to make sure Raphael doesn’t find a way to use the two of you. So no going near soldiers with knives for you, Sammy. Okay?”

Sam joined Dean in sitting down and they shared another look. They were doing a lot of that on this trip. On this trip that had not gone anywhere close to plan but had somehow brought them into contact with an otherworldly being Dean at least was apparently supposed to know well.

“You know everything that was meant to happen?” Sam asked. “And I was, what, killed by a knife? By a solider with a knife?”

“Hey, let’s not get bogged down in details,” Gabriel said, as though he hasn’t just casually brought up Sam being stabbed. “It didn’t happen. Thanks to Anna and our pal Cas here, you were put on a different path back when Jess didn’t burn up on a ceiling. What? Too much?”

He must have noticed both Sam and Dean flinching, then. Which put him several notches up the empathy scale from where Dean had already placed him. 

“You remember a guy called Brady, Sam?” Gabriel asked.

“Er. Yeah. Good friend of mine at Stanford,” Sam said. “Not heard from him since…” Sam trailed off and his brow creased. “Since Dean and I went to find Dad and ran into that Woman in White. He was meant to come by the next day, see how my interview had gone.”

“But he didn’t show, did he?” Gabriel asked. “Because Anna had got through to Cas by then, and they took out the demon possessing him. Your Brady was half-way back home to his folks already, and lucky to be able to go to ground that way. Most people don’t make it out of that kind of thing in one piece.”

“What’s this Brady got to do with Jess?” Dean asked. “Or with Sam being stabbed.”

Gabriel shrugged and waved his hands in what was probably meant to be a meaningful way.

“Interweaving threads, children. Brady made sure Sam and Jess met. Did you know that? And he was meant to make sure she died. Get you back on the road, Sam, so you’d be where you were meant to be when a soldier all hopped up on demon powers came at you with a knife, so Dean would sell his soul to get you back, so Dean could be in Hell to break the first seal on Lucifer’s Cage. Kinda complicated, if you ask me.”

“And Cas was supposed to pull you from Hell, Dean,” Hannah said. She sounded subdued. 

“Okay, well, I don’t know what to do with all of that,” Dean said. 

“While you’re thinking it over, anyone up for some snacks?” Gabriel asked. “I have not had a decent bite of food in weeks, let me tell you. Mike is not big on taking breaks to eat, but I picked up the habit when I was living down here. Your girl over there got any cakes hiding around here?”

Dean bristled as Gabriel nodded at Evie, who glared back. It was odd to see her staying quiet.

“Leave her out of it,” Dean said, letting the words grate. Not like he had much chance of intimidating an archangel, not form the quick rundown Bobby had given them and from what Hannah had said, but he’d be damned if he was going to let Gabriel steamroll over a girl who’d not even known the supernatural existed before today. 

Huh. Damned. Looked like Dean had been destined for that. When this was all over, he’d have to sit down and work out what he owed Anna and Cas and Hannah. And maybe this bastard with his smirk and his smugness and his request for snacks. 

“No,” Evie said. “No, I can go run and get some stuff. We have a load of things leftover in the shop. Not as many customers as normal, you know, even with most places being shut, so we have pastries left and some cakes and I think some muffins or something. Do you like those? Got any preferences. No, don’t worry. I’ll bring everything.”

As she said this, Evie backed along the wall to the door, her eyes not leaving Gabriel. The archangel, for his part, looked as close to taken aback as Dean had seen him. At least, he didn’t say anything else until Evie had gone, shutting the door behind her.

“And just where did you find her?” Gabriel asked, when Evie’s footsteps had disappeared down the stairs. 

“Coffee shop,” Dean said. “Same place I found Cas.”

“That has got a be a coffee shop worth visiting,” Gabriel said, and waved a hand before Dean could tell him again to leave Evie alone. “Well, while she’s off getting me my snacks, how about I take a look at Anna? I know she’s here, Hannah. No point pretending.”

“You said you wouldn’t help her,” Hannah said. She sounds wary. 

“I said I wanted to move on from the whole thing,” Gabriel said, the humor slipping away entirely again. “Seeing as that’s not on the cards, and I’m here anyway, I might as well take a look.”

“And Cas?” Dean asked. “I thought we called you to help with Cas?”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

“I shut Cas down the minute I turned up. I’ll sort him out after I’ve seen what I can do with Anna. We might need both of them on this. I hate to say it, but the two of them have more battle experience with the strategy and tactics side of things than I do, in some ways. I more…orchestrate a fitting performance.”

When Gabriel stood, Hannah rose to her feet, her face almost a blank mask as she took Gabriel in the direction of Cas’ bedroom. She left Cas on the floor, gently but with no real sign of the care she’d seemed to have for a while there. Something about having an archangel around seemed to have shut her down. 

Dean waited a few moments, blinking at nothing as his mind pinwheeled. He heard Sam sigh and met his brother’s gaze to find Sam shaking his head. 

“What?” he asked.

“All of that…” Sam said. “That… Dean, I don’t…”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Yeah, I get you.”

More silence. Dean had time to pick back over some of what Gabriel had said, and he still couldn’t pin it all down. 

“You were supposed to die,” he said at last.

“And Jess,” Sam said. “And you were to go to Hell.”

“Yeah, well not like I haven’t been told to enough times,” Dean said, and tried a smile. It failed. “I don’t know if I want to pin that smug bastard down and wring every last detail from him, or whether to beg him to do the mind-wipe thing on us.”

“We should get your friend off the floor,” Sam said.

Dean lifted Cas up and settled him on the couch while Sam got a glass of water. Cas was out cold, but as Dean felt at his pulse the guy shifted, groaning, and opened his eyes. He looked grateful when Sam handed him the water, and Dean helped him steady the glass and drink.

“Thanks,” Cas said. “Where’s Gabriel? And Hannah?”

“Gone to check on Anna,” Sam said. “You, er, you feeling okay?”

Cas grimaced.

“Define ‘okay’,” he said, “but I don’t feel like my head’s cracking open anymore, so that’s an improvement.” His gaze skated away. “I don’t remember everything, but I do have a…a shape of it, now. I’m not sure you should be around me. You may not be safe.”

“Oh, if Gabriel has his way we’re going up against what’s left of the Team Heaven Apocalypse Force,” Dean said, and ignored the face Sam pulled at him. “I think ‘safe’ sailed out of dock about a day ago.”

Cas’ face fell.

“I apologize-”

“No,” Dean said. “No, from what I hear, you saved and Anna saved us both from death and me from Hell. Literal Hell. Whatever happens next, it can’t be worse than Hell, right?”

Cas didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t argue. He let Dean help him drink more water and didn’t protest when Dean took his hand. 

Footsteps drew Dean’s attention a few minutes later, and he turned expecting to see Gabriel or Hannah. Instead, he saw Anna standing in the doorway, her red hair deeply burnished. She looked hesitant, almost wary, as though she thought she might be thrown out.

“Hey,” Dean said. “Anna, right? You’re awake.”

“Yeah,” Anna said. “I… Is that Castiel?”

Dean felt Cas move and turned back to help the guy sit up. He looked like he should still be lying down, but Dean knew keeping someone from getting up when they wanted to could be a losing battle. He’d nursed his dad through a share of injuries. And hang-overs. As least Cas didn’t snap at him.

“Anna?” Cas said, and winced again. “I’m sorry. My memories are…suspect.”

“Mine aren’t,” Anna said. And smiled. It lit up her face, turning a beautiful woman into someone Dean would swear was the archetype of an angel in human form. “Brother, I’m so glad to see you.”

Dean pushed himself to his feet as quickly as he could as Anna stepped forward, and Anna knelt to embrace Cas. It almost felt like Dean should leave, taking Sam with him, but a the hug only lasted a few seconds before Anna pulled back and moved to sit next to Cas on the couch, holding Cas’ hand.

“Ain’t they cute?” Gabriel asked, and Dean scowled at having missed the guy coming back in, Hannah right next to him. “So, now we’ve got our little war counsel all convened, except for the snack-girl, let’s get a plan together.” He rubbed his hands together and grinned, and Dean was going to need painkillers to get through this. “We need to decide how much we’re willing to risk here. Because if these bastards are still pushing this thing, we need to rip of the band-aide. Problem is, Mickey won’t listen to anything about this still going on, not if he can avoid it. So, how do we make him see Raphael needs dealing with?”

“Can’t you just tell him?” Dean asked. “I thought you were one he gossiped with all day.”

“What, you think we sit around drinking tea and chatting about our neighbors? No. Well, not exactly. Look, being in Michael’s good graces isn’t exactly all it’s cracked up to be. He’s pious. I mean true believer levels.”

“He believed in God?” Sam asked.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Gabriel said.

Sam opened his mouth and paused for a second before going on, as though he couldn’t quite accept he was about to say this.

“And you’re saying there isn’t really a God?”

“Oh, no. There’s a God. Was a God. He went off to see the sights or something ages back. No-one’s heard from him in years. But just because something’s real doesn’t mean you have to go around devoutly believing in it.”

“Okay,” Sam said, but he said it like it didn’t quite compute.

“Just cut to the chase,” Dean said. “What do you think we should do?”

“Do?” Gabriel lifted both eyebrows this time and spread his hands out. “We need to offer Cas to Raphael.”

**Author's Note:**

> I totally love comments - they are writing fuel. 
> 
> And come say hi on tumblr. I'm [humanformdragon](http://humanformdragon.tumblr.com/).
> 
> [ExpatGirl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ExpatGirl/pseuds/ExpatGirl) and I, and a couple of other people, exchanged ghost stories for Christmas, reviving a fine old Christmas tradition. Destiel reworkings of ghost stories which posted on Christmas Eve.  
> It's at [GhostOfChristmasDestiel](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/GhostOfChristmasDestiel)
> 
> Come and have a look.
> 
> My email is humanformdragon@gmail.com


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